It’s the little things that get to me.  The tiny details that remind me that the world isn’t the way I would have it, were it in my power to shape the cosmos to conform to the most subtle nuance of my will.

For example, I had pepperoni pizza today.  I love pepperoni pizza.  Why can I only have pepperoni on pizza?

It’s possible to order chicken in a restaurant, and it’s possible to have a chicken topping on pizza.  But it’s not possible to order pepperoni in a restaurant.

I’d like to go to a fancy restaurant, order a nice bottle of red wine, and have a humongous slab of medium-rare pepperoni.  It would come in a large plate and sit in a crimson pool of its own grease.  You’d eat the pepperoni and then slurp down the grease like it was a soup of the day.

The world is full of self-proclaimed “sophisticates” and “arbiters of good taste” and gourmands, and I’ve never even heard anyone discuss this idea.  I’m embarrassed for them all.