Counter-Point

You know what? I’ve come around. I like drinking fountains.

I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and this just happens to be one of those rare occurances. As far as I can recollect, the last time I was wrong was back in ’02 when I foolishly predicted that consuming three Dairy Queen Blizzards in one sitting wouldn’t give me diarrhea.

At any rate, my moment of clarity occurred as I was walking down the hallway just a moment ago. On a whim, I decided to bend down and take a sip from a drinking fountain. Unexpectedly, the cool, sweet water filled my cheeks with clear liquid happiness. Its cold, thin essence tickled the corners of my lips and dripped off my chin whiskers, summoning hoarse barks of merriment that rang throughout the halls.

As that last drop of silvery satisfaction sped down my gullet, I was both refreshed and humbled. I was wrong about drinking fountains. In hindsight, my rejection of drinking fountains sprang from my own fear and ignorance – I foolishly assumed that such devices were hollow compromises to satiate dullards of Balkan descent.

I am now, however, a changed man. For that reason I sped to the nearest computer to blog my repentance to you, my confessors. Please forgive me.

In penance, I will now go and bathe my filth-encrusted upper body in the shallow basin of my nearby drinking fountain.