Dispatches from the Culture War
Lots to say this week, but no time to get it down on whatever it is that passes for paper these days.
I blame that lovely beast pictured above.
I have been unable to play since October. Because reasons:
Two weeks ago I had a witch doctor inject a load of Lance Armstrong-ish stuff in my wrist. And lo and behold, the brace is gone and I can play guitar again.
When I was a lad, I decided I should go ahead and plan on accomplishing three simple tasks:
I’m almost finished.1/rimshot
Reading is a huge piece of My Favorite World. Much of my recent reading has been non-fiction. It’s been pretty heavy slogging.2Including yet another run-in with Daniel Dennett that ended the way the first two did: I’m doing pretty well until, inevitably, somewhere c. page 120-150, I begin to feel I am the stupidest person in the world. I liked Coming of Age in the Milky Way quite a lot, but covering billions of years can sort of feel like it. It was time for some fiction.
References
Late last year, the NY Police were very, very cross with their new Mayor, who had the gall to mention that he had instructed his son to be very careful and respectful if he had any encounters with the police. Here’s a picture of the mayor and his son.
What possible reason could da mayor have had for saying such a thing?
That fellow up there trying to avoid my camera’s eye is my son. 1He is also my wife’s son, but this is about me. So there. This attempt at candid capture is Exhibit 5234 in a series of why I am the most annoying person in the world.2To be fair, he suggests that I am only tied with Mom. Again, this blog is about ME. So there. Mea culpa.
References
