The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder. Somewhere not so far back, vast lightnings stomped the earth. Somewhere, a storm like a great beast with terrible teeth could not be denied.”
—Ray Bradbury. “Something Wicked This Way Comes.” 1962
It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark blue clocks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn’t care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars.
Since I quit regularly checking my Facebook page, it seems the algorithm overlords have filled in the empty space on my timeline with a huge number of animal rescue videos (and also videos of machines reducing the manual labor required … the rest “Oiled Wildlife Care Network”
His detractors know it and his supporters know it too.
You didn’t have to live for a long time in New York and New Jersey as I did, listening to the non-stop stream of terrible garbage he spewed to the noise hungry media for decades, to know that he’s awful.
“Biased media portrayal” my skinny white ass. He comes off as awful because he is awful.
He’s been awful his entire adult life.
Everyone knows it.
If you support him, you can waste time and truth, with a bunch of gaslighting nonsense about people’s “different perspectives,” our you can come clean about whatever cynical reason you have for embracing his awfulness.
And if you truly believe that he is a good person with something to offer this country, well, as we say in Kansas, “Son, you can’t tell shit from wild honey.”
I mentioned to some friends today that this morning’s training on the Kaw was one of those glorious moments you receive as a reward for your commitment to the rowing life. Not a victory celebration necessarily, but a sublime moment … the rest “Oars, Outboards, and Early Mornings”
After a few random samples and the Dave Eggers* forward, I am really looking forward to digging into this one.
“I debated for a time as to whether I ought to open these memoirs at the beginning or at the end—that is, if I would start out with my birth or with my death. Granting that the common practice may be to begin with one’s birth, two considerations led me to adopt a different method: the first is that I am not exactly an author recently deceased, but a deceased man recently an author, for whom the tomb was another cradle; the second is that this would make the writing wittier and more novel. Moses, who also recounted his own death, did not put it at the commencement but at the finish: a radical difference between this book and the Pentateuch.”
—Machado De Assis. “The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas.” 1881
“We expect this decline to continue” because of warming caused by humans, Hughes said. “The only effective way to improve the outcome for coral reefs is global action on greenhouse gasses. If global temperatures rise to 3 or 4 [degrees
My name is Nemonte Nenquimo. I am a Waorani woman, a mother, and a leader of my people. The Amazon rainforest is my home. I am writing you this letter because the fires are raging still. Because the corporations are