The Case of the Purloined Photo
I’ve only a few years left on station and choose not to spend it among vulgarians.
"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter." —Mark Twain
Because I feel like ranting
I’ve only a few years left on station and choose not to spend it among vulgarians.
So this popped up in yesterday’s news. Sure, shitbirds like this infest every state in the Union. My Show Me homies don’t have a lock on white supremacy and regressive thinking. But there are Red states and Redder states, and I sometimes hesitate before telling new acquaintances I’m from Missouri. Or that my home town, […]
Sometimes I’m tempted to start hashing again, just so I can get drunk and stop thinking, for a little while at least, just who exactly is benefiting from what we’re told is a booming economy.
Remember when internet pioneers would say naive things like “information wants to be free”?
They’re not going to stop lying, these lying liars. It works for them, and that’s all that matters when you flunked Morality 101.
Our son Gregory suggested we climb up out of the heat for a couple of days. We took him up on it.
I was around in the boys’ club days of the Air Force, when NCO and officers’ clubs would bring in strippers, hard-working women who earned every dollar we stuffed in their G strings while fending off our drunken attempts to grope them. Nothing but respect. But those days are over.
My Father’s Day was lovely, as, I hope, was yours.