The book excerpt has been found. The pages are as god meant them to be. All is well in my world. And yet the Luddite in me still wishes for a time when stamps were a lot more important than they are today. I mean, how badly could you screw that up? Put the wrong amount on the letter? Paste the stamp on upside down? Forget to lick the envelope shut?
Oh god, I’ve done it now
This is my payback for thinking I can actually use one of these infernal machines. I tried to change the excerpt available in the book section and now there is nothing there. Puff. All gone. Disappeared into the ether. As though it never existed. And I once again ask myself, what the hell was the problem with just writing letters in the first place.
Special Olympics just that…special
It’s one of those silly discussions that periodically convulse the world of competitive figure skating. At the last Olympics, it was all about the judging and the numbers and the fact that kings and queens were crowned long before the competition actually took place.
So the ice skating world heaved it hoar encrusted body enough to create a new set of rules for judging competitions. And then promptly figured out a way to use them to still crown a preconceived winner before a blade has hit Olympic ice. Was there anyone who tuned into the Olympics for even a minute
A day with the birds
I should probably only ever take my blood pressure after my morning at Bird TLC. I realized today that whenever I leave there, I’m smiling. Who smiles after being so intimate with rotting fish and eagle poop? And yet, it brings me joy.
It’s Monday
It’s Monday. The circle in front of my house is a frozen sheet of ice. Walking my dog takes the balance of a ballet dancer and the strength of superman just to get to the other side of the street without breaking anything valuable. I went to mail stuff at the post office only to find it closed. My nose hurts. My brain doesn’t want to function and I think I may be losing my fine sense of perspective on life. I should go to Curves but mostly I just want to go back to bed. Tuesday can’t get here
Maybe this isn’t the best medicine for me
Maybe this new blood pressure medicine isn’t the best one for me. I was driving down the street the other day singing very loudly to Miss American Pie when I found myself sobbing over the fact that I could remember all the words. I’m thinking that’s not a good sign.
Make money? I think not.
I just found out that some people actually make money on their blogs. This is apparently similar to the way some people make money in their lives through work and investments. I’ve never actually figured out how to do that. I’m sure it can be done. I’ve had the occasional friend who has done it. I see Donald Trump on TV and it’s clear that you don’t have to be attractive or particularly bright to do it. And clearly you don’t have to have a good head of hair. So I know it can be done. It’s just not something
Correction
In my column below I mention photographer artist Robert Mapplethorpe as the creator of the picture of a cross in urine. I was wrong. He did not do that picture.
Violence is not the answer in a free society
A few years ago, Robert Mapplethorpe created a piece of “art” that consisted of a photograph of a crucifix in urine. I think it would be fair to say that just reading those words causes a little shudder to run through most people who find the whole symbolism disgusting and sacrilegious.
For most of us, Mr. Mapplethorpe is probably never going to really be an artist whose work we might want in our homes. For most of us, he might not even rise to the level of artist. Having read all the reviews of his work and photography, and viewed