The second I clicked, a mental grail knight—the very one from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade—said “You chose poorly.”
Won’t it be weird if it turns out one of the long-term effects of COVID-19 on young victims is autism, and then they come up with a vaccine?
And people ask me why I don’t believe there’s a god.
Canned laughter. Who does that any more?
… when I look at what passes today for free online and electronically-delivered written content … long posts that nobody reads on Facebook, threaded posts on Twitter, Tumblr and Storify accounts, email newsletters … it’s hard to figure out why these forms are any better than the traditional weblog.
… we were raised by parents who thought answering the phone with an anonymous hello was rude. We were taught to answer by saying “Woodford residence,” similar to the way receptionists answer with a cheery “Doctor Smith’s office,” or “Acme Plumbing.”
Well, this has been a thoroughly domestic post, hasn’t it? I find I have nothing worth saying about outside news and events. People in the news are being awful as usual, but down at this lowly un-newsworthy level I’m trying to be better.
These are the best mornings. Up early, walking through the neighborhood while it’s still cool, policing the back yard for dog poop, coffee and a hot muffin for breakfast, a devoted dog by my side, the rest of the morning mine to write, read, or whatever I want to do.