He’s just such a badass he can’t be bothered.

Women reporters show up wearing ball gowns and throwing around air-kisses like a room full of fledgling Audrey Hepburns; many of the men in the audience are dressed like they’re on their way to a high school prom and slapping each other on the back like the New York Yankees after clenching the pennant…When it was finally my turn to receive an award, I stood and explained that, with a work schedule requiring the completion of some 200-plus columns each year, it was impossible to pretend that I remembered the particular motivations for something I wrote on deadline eight or nine months ago. Not surprisingly, no one laughed and the room was so quiet, you could have heard a mouse getting an erection.

It’s a real hardship to dress nicely and be honored by your colleagues. Mike probably had to break out his formal leather onesie.

I am glad that he took the trouble: otherwise I might never have had occasion to wonder what the sound of a mouse’s sexual excitement might be. My guess is it sounds something like a hybrid of an under-oiled door hinge and the sound your car makes when it almost starts up, but not quite. But quieter.

Related posts:

1. Mike Doyle does good
2. Mike, manufacturing, and microchips