"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter." —Mark Twain
Our other children
I was going to write a Veterans Day post but settled for a couple of short entries on Facebook and Instagram, along with some photos of combat veteran aircraft from the air museum. Writing about my own service seems, I don’t know, self-serving? Like I’m asking for a pat on the back? For doing something I loved doing?
I’m happy we got al-Baghdadi, but appalled at Trump’s me-me-me touchdown dance, belittling Obama while trying to be Obama, failing at both.
Yes, we all should have seen this coming. And now it’s happening, right in front of us, and who or what is going to stop it? The Democratic majority in the House of Representatives? Don’t make me laugh.
It being my birth month and all, I decided to energize my batteries with a motorcycle cross-country.
May I express skepticism about the impeachment inquiry? Does anyone else think they’re going to slow roll it all the way to the election, never deciding whether to impeach or not? Because I do. Everything I’ve seen from the Democrats in Congress tells me that’s what they’re up to. Why is another story, one I will probably never understand.
It’s okay to be whoever and whatever you are, including white, but it’s not okay to say “it’s okay to be white.” Those are code words used by the alt-right. Saying “it’s okay to be white” is the equivalent of waving an All Lives Matter sign at a Black Lives Matter demonstration: your meaning is clear to everyone.
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.
I don’t want to be That Person, the one who complains about Southwest Asia call centers, but there were, ah, accent difficulties on both sides.