Baby placed in trash bin is improving
You know, if you’re dumped in the trash as a newborn, I’d say that you have nowhere to go in life but up.
Nowhere To Go But Up
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Author: Brian J. Noggle
Short Story: "The Brooch"
I was walking down Commonwealth towards Berkeley with a spring in my step. I was wearing my nice clothes, the slacks with no holes in them, and a white shirt with a string tie, and my hair was combed. I had things to do. The day after tomorrow was Megan’s birthday, and I had seventeen dollars in my pocket. The weeks of working at Mr. Roy’s grocery store had paid off, and I knew just what I was going to get Megan.
When I had been walking her home last Wednesday, we had walked past the jewelry shop in the Park Square Building. She stopped to look inside, like all girls do. She asked me what kind of ring I was going to get her when we got married. I didn’t know, and I don’t even know if we’re going to get married. But she likes to think so. After she looked at the rings in the bottom of the window, she looked up at another glass case, and ooohed at a brooch.
I didn’t think it was anything special, but I’m a guy. It was gold and silver, and there was a big M in the middle. It was cursive writing and fancy, and Megan liked it a lot. I wondered how much she would like it when she saw it in a box in her hands the day after tomorrow.
“Hey Kevin,” Sid Leary called. He was sitting on his front porch with his brother Ronald and the rest of the Dunston Boys. “Where’ve you been the last month? We haven’t seen you around.”
“I’ve been busy,” I said without stopping. I didn’t want to stop. Sid might find out I have money, and if he did, it’d probably get spent on pool or whiskey, neither of which would do Megan any good the day after tomorrow.
Sid called out after me as I walked past, and as I turned the corner he shouted again. I hoped he wouldn’t be too mad at me, but I had things to do.
I imagined how Megan would look opening the box, how the brooch would look on her favorite red sweater, how her friends in school would like it, too.
Officer Mulready was out walking his beat along Berkeley, his hands behind his back. He looked me over, but I wasn’t doing anything wrong today, so I looked back at him. “Well, Mr. Murphy, out and about this afternoon?”
“Yes sir,” I replied. He stopped in front of me, and I had to stop, too.
“Where you going?”
“I’m going to my girlfriend’s house, sir,” I said. It was just habit not to tell the truth to him.
“Isn’t she in school?”
“Yes, sir, but I’m going to wait for her.”
He cast a disbelieving eye over me, but nodded and continued on his way. He turned the corner and I could hear faint notes on the wind as he started to whistle. It ended abruptly, and I heard his booming voice questioning some other innocent person.
And then I was at the Park Square Building, outside the jewelry store. I fingered the rolled money in my pocket and went in.
A bell jingled and a man appeared from another room. “May I help you?” he asked.
It was warmer inside and it smelled nice. There were glass cases with all kinds of necklaces and things, but I looked at the case in the window. I could see the back of the brooch. I could very plainly see the little white sticker with the number 21.00 written on it. I felt my stomach drop and my throat got tight.
“I, ah, want to see something in that case,” I said.
“Come around,” he said, waving his hand around the display in front of it. He pulled a big ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the display.
Then the bell over the door jingled, and Sid Leary and the Dunston Boys came in. “Look at that,” Sid said, pointing at one of the rings in another case.
The jeweller stepped around the glass case. “Can I help you boys?” he asked coldly.
The case was open, and the brooch was hanging on velvet. I snuck a glance at the jeweller. He was watching the Dunston Boys and paying no attention to me. I could just reach in and take it.
It was just like the sham we would pull in Wheeler’s drug store. One guy would go in and look around and then the rest would be rowdy and while old man Wheeler was throwing them out, the first guy would be loading his pockets. He’d then buy something cheap and split. It was usually good for a few packs of cigarettes and gum. It was my turn to be the pigeon.
Megan wouldn’t like something that was stolen. Some of the girls didn’t care, but Megan wouldn’t wear it if she knew it was stolen. She’d probably get mad at me too.
“If you’re not buying anything, you should go somewhere else,” the jeweller said, and I thought he was talking to me. I turned and he was pushing the last of the Dunston Boys out the door. Reggie appeared in the window and made faces at the jeweller, but then Sid called and Reggie disappeared from sight.
“Now what was it that you were looking at?” the jeweller asked after brushing his hands together.
“Well, sir, this brooch,” I said softly.
“The lacework is silver. The letter is inlaid with gold. It’d make a fine gift,” he said.
“It costs twenty-one dollars?” I asked.
“Yes, son, it does. It is a good deal for the piece. It was hand-worked, you know. Imported from Peru.”
“I only have seventeen dollars. Could I work here for you for the rest?”
“For your mother?”
“My girlfriend. It’s her birthday tomorrow. She really likes this brooch.”
He looked at me for a moment, probably to see if I was lying. “Tomorrow’s her birthday?”
“Yes sir.”
“How old will she be?”
“Seventeen, sir.”
“I tell you what. Seventeen dollars for seventeen years sounds about right to me.”
I breathed again. “Thank you, sir,” I said. He took the brooch from the velvet and punched numbers in the cash register. It chinged and the number seventeen appeared in the windows on the top. I pulled out my two five dollar bills and seven ones. He put the brooch in a little white box and gave it to me.
“The other condition is if you marry this girl, you have to buy the ring here.” He smiled. “Would you like a receipt?”
“No, thank you, sir,” I said, and I took the box in both hands and left.
Megan was going to be so happy. I opened the box as I walked. The gold and silver didn’t look as good against the cotton as they had against the black velvet. Megan was going to love it.
Sid and the Dunston boys were standing on the corner of Commonwealth waiting for me. “What’d you get, Kevin?” Sid asked, uncrossing his arms and standing up from the lamp post he had been leaning on.
“Nothing.” I walked wide around the group.
“Hey,” Sid said, grabbing my right arm and half turning me. “What’s in the box?”
“Buzz off, Sid,” I said, shaking my arm out of his hands. I hurried up, and the Dunston boys stood, staring at me from the corner. Sid called my name again, but I ignored it. I went home and spent most of the night looking at the brooch and thinking of Megan.
Megan smiled when I held the box out. “You remembered,” she said with fake surprise. She opened the top and gasped. “Oh, Kevin,” she said softly. Her green eyes looked at me. I thought she was going to cry. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“I love it.” She stopped. “Can you put it on me?”
I stopped. “Sure,” I said, swallowing. I put her books down on the sidewalk and took the brooch. I unfastened it and tried to hide my trembling hands. I put it on the right side, right over her heart. I didn’t stick her, either.
“Wait till Judy sees this,” she said after we started walking again. “Thank you, Kevin,” she said when we got to the fence around her high school. She kissed me lightly and went in.
I watched her walk proudly into the building. Halfway up the steps, her friends Judy and Sandy met her. She gestured at the brooch and pointed at me. They smiled and looked wistfully at me. I felt good.
I got home from Mr. Roy’s store at eight thirty. My father and mother were screaming at each other in their bedroom. My little sister was in the living room and the radio was turned up to try and cover their disagreement. She ignored me as I came in, and I went up to my bedroom to change clothes. I got my tie off and the top button on my shirt open when Catherine called me from the living room.
Megan was pacing on the front porch. I closed the door behind me. “Hi,” I said.
She turned, eyes blazing. “Don’t ‘hi’ me, Kevin,” she said. She was still wearing the red sweater, but the brooch wasn’t on it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where did you get this brooch?” She stuck it in front of me like it was a cross and I was a vampire.
“I bought it at Taylor’s Jewelry Shop. It’s the one we pass going to your house.”
“Did you buy it, Kevin? Or did you steal it?”
“I bought it.”
“Sid Leary told Sandy that he helped you steal it for me. That they made a distraction and you stole it while the jeweller was throwing them out.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “I….”
“Tell me they weren’t in there with you, Kevin. Tell me you were at the jewelry store alone.”
They were there, though, and I couldn’t lie to Megan. “They were, but….”
“Kevin! I thought you were done with the Dunston Boys. I really did. I thought I meant more to you then those hoodlums. If I don’t, then you can take your stupid brooch and find another girl.”
I didn’t want another girl, it wasn’t like that at all, I did buy the brooch, but none of these words came out. She looked at me for a moment as I stood there with my mouth half open. She then threw the brooch onto the porch and ran down the steps and into the night. The big cursive M glared at me.
I picked it up, and wondered what I’d do now. I went inside, drank a couple glasses of water, and went into my bedroom. Girls are crazy anyway, I thought.
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Another Helpful Hint From Industry
Whereas the Chicago Tribune quotes a helpful, neutral expert (registration required) who suggests improvements for workplace productivity:
“If you’re watching video, you’re probably not working,” said Vimal Solanki, director of product marketing at McAfee Inc., a software vendor whose products to block Web access are selling briskly.
Not to be outdone, the makers of Stadium Pal not that if employees are going to the bathroom, they’re probably not working, either.
(Link seen on this little blog out of Tennessee run by an obscure academic. Click through! He could use 1/10th of my traffic.)
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Sad Testament
So, how many of the RateBeer.com’s Worst 50 Beers have you had?
My total:
- Busch NA
- Steelback Tango
- Black Label 11-11 Malt Liquor
- Sleeman Clear
- Steelback Silver
- Michelob Ultra
- O’Douls
- B-40 Bull Max
- Coors Non-Alcoholic
- Olde English 800 3.2
- Pabst NA
- PC 2.5 g Low Carb
- Natural Light
- Tuborg T-Beer
- Steelback Link
- Jacob Best Ice
- Natural Ice
- Camo Silver Ice High Gravity Lager
- Gluek Stite Light
- Miller Sharps
- Camo Genuine Ale
- Coors Aspen Edge
- Diamond White Cider
- Molson Ex Light
- Hurricane Ice
- Hurricane High Gravity Lager
- Labatt Sterling
- Milwaukees Best
- Tuborg T-Beer Citrus
- General Generic Beer
- Outback Chilli Beer
- Busch Ice
- Molson Kick
- Blue Ice Beer
- Cave Creek Chili Beer
- Tuborg Super Light
- Tooheys Blue Bitter
- Pabst Ice
- Fosters Light
- Hek Original Lager Blonde Beer (Blue label)
- Old Milwaukee Ice
- Fosters Ice
- Lucky Lager Force 10
- Zhujiang 10°
- Bootie Light
- Schlitz Red Bull
- Archa
- Bud Light
- Matt Accel
- Genesee NA
I have drunk 6 of the worst beers in the world. I don’t know whether to be proud or ashamed.
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Retaliatory Strike
McGehee’s right. His new self-portrait does make him look like a Klingon:
A cross-dressing Klingon at that.
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You Can Download Anything
Ginned-up story of the day: Using Internet for drug deals is not unusual, authorities say:
While the wide array of drugs seized from a student’s car this week at Lutheran High School South struck authorities as unusual, the suspicion that a supplier used the Web to get them here was not.
No word on the obvious use of that dangerous technology the automobile in the lead, but there’s that demon Web.
Authorities indicate that with a broad enough band, you can download drugs right into your computer:
Investigators said they have indications that some of the seized drugs were obtained from Bosnia via the Internet.
But thanks to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch for recycling this story from 1995 and reprinting it. One must wonder if a glance through its archives would have found a story a little over a hundred years ago explaining how madams were using stagecoaches to get women to their cathouses.
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You Couldn’t Find a Better Union in a Fark Photoshop Contest
Pop-Tarts Presents American Idols Live! Tour 2006.
Someone out there in marketingland has a subversive sense of humor.
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Recursive Logic Error
Looks like everyone’s running with this story today: Study finds we’re human-chimp hybrid.
Revel in the logic, friends. It’s GNUs Not Unix all over again. We, humans, are a cross between humans and chimps. The humans that they crossed with the chimps were a cross between humans and chimps. Which in turn must have been human and chimp hybrids.
Sloppy headlines reveal sloppy thinking. And we get a lot of that in the papers today, ainna?
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That’s How You Get Them To Fit Into The Vase
Some creative pruning of firearms:
He brought a rifle to school Monday. The stalk had been cut off the gun. Benton was arrested.
(Link seen on Ravenwood’s Universe.)
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Boeing CEO Doesn’t Wear Horsehair Shirt, Self-Flagellate to Post-Dispatch Reporter’s Satisfaction
The CEO of Boeing gives a speech at Saint Louis University, sponsored by the Boeing Institute of International Business at SLU’s John Cook Business School. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reports Boeing chief skips mention of scandal in speech:
Boeing Co. Chairman Jim McNerney’s first public speech in St. Louis was filled with historical references: Lewis and Clark, the real story behind the invention of the Post-it and why aviation pioneer James S. McDonnell set up shop here nearly 70 years ago.
However, in his speech on Tuesday, McNerney steered clear of a recent development in Boeing’s history: a $615 million settlement with the Justice Department that allows Boeing to avoid admitting wrongdoing and criminal prosecution on corruption charges.
"Reporter" Tim McLaughlin goes on to list a number of scandals and shoddy business practices that preceded the CEO’s assumption of the Chief Executive post. McLaughlin then throws in an aside to why he thinks the CEO should half turned the collegiate appearance into a weepy, mea-culpa Oprahesque piece of failure and redemption at the audience’s pity:
Not mentioning the scandals and the subsequent tentative settlement in the speech was notable, given that McNerney left 3M Co. to rebuild Boeing’s reputation.
That’s nothing but a self-justification for this particular story list of anti-Boeing bullet points.
Meanwhile, we at MfBJN note that McLaughlin didn’t bother to mention the St. Louis Post-Dispatch‘s declining circulation or job cuts in this article. We have to wonder why not?
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St. Louis Post-Dispatch Fails Compare-and-Contrast Exam
The St. Louis Post-Dispatch today makes equivalent two statements from two very different men (Guards on border: Bistate leaders splitting on plan).
Missouri Governor Matt Blunt:
“As commander in chief of the Missouri National Guard, I stand ready to assist in the border control efforts the president outlined and know that Missouri’s men and women in uniform are more than prepared for this challenge,” Blunt said.
“Missouri’s National Guard personnel have answered the call of our federal government many times in the past and were among the first in the nation to help the storm-ravaged Gulf Coast last year. It is a high honor for me to be associated with such a committed group of patriots,” he said.
Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich:
But Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich said that after five years during which Bush had largely ignored immigration issues, he should not seek to boost border security in a manner Blagojevich said would be at the expense of homeland security.
He said Bush had already left National Guard units underequipped and stretched too thin, and he expressed concern that the Guard would be weakened further if it were now asked to police the borders, said his deputy press secretary, Abby Ottenhoff. States rely on the National Guard to respond to disasters at home.
The governor called for more answers from Bush about how he plans to protect states if Guard units are diverted to the nation’s borders.
Of course, they have two different biographies.
Matt Blunt, Missouri’s 54th governor was elected on November 2, 2004, carrying 101 of Missouri’s 114 counties.
Governor Blunt was born November 20, 1970 in Springfield, Missouri. He attended public schools in Strafford, and graduated from Jefferson City High School prior to entering the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland.
Prior to his election as governor, Matt Blunt served as an active duty Naval Officer, as a member of the Missouri General Assembly (District 139) and as Missouri’s 37th Secretary of State.
Governor Blunt graduated from the Naval Academy in May 1993 with a bachelor of science degree in history. He went on to serve as an Engineering Officer aboard the USS JACK WILLIAMS (FFG-24) and as the Navigator and Administrative Officer on the USS PETERSON (DD-969).
Governor Blunt’s active duty service included participation in Operation Support Democracy, involving the United Nations blockade of Haiti, missions to interdict drug traffic off the South American coast, and on duties involved in the interdiction of Cuban migrants in 1994.
During his Naval career, Governor Blunt received numerous commendations, including four Navy and Marine Corps Achievement medals.
Governor Blunt is the only statewide official in Missouri history called to active military duty in wartime, serving for six months in Operation Enduring Freedom, America’s response to the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. He is currently serving as a Lieutenant Commander in the Naval Reserves.
Rod R. Blagojevich was sworn in as the 40th Governor of Illinois on January 13, 2003.
As Illinois’ chief executive officer, Gov. Blagojevich is working aggressively to create jobs, build stronger communities, provide Illinois families the tools they need to improve their lives, and restore the people’s confidence in state government.
Gov. Blagojevich’s top priority is ensuring access to quality health care for every child in Illinois. Nearly 250,000 children in Illinois are uninsured and many come from working and middle class families who earn too much to qualify for programs like KidCare, but not enough to afford private health insurance. That is why Gov. Blagojevich proposed and signed legislation creating the All Kids program. All Kids makes Illinois the first state in the nation to make sure every child has access to comprehensive and affordable health care coverage. Illinois’ uninsured children will now have access to doctor’s visits, hospital stays, prescription drugs, vision care, dental care and medical devices like eyeglasses and asthma inhalers. Parents will pay monthly premiums for the coverage, but rates for middle-income families will be significantly lower than they are on the private market.
Let’s cut through the first three quarters of Blagojevich’s “biography,” since they’re really nothing more than campaign promises. For substantive biographic information, we get:
Prior to his election, Gov. Blagojevich was a Cook County Assistant State’s Attorney. During his tenure, he prosecuted domestic abuse cases and felony weapons charges, which made him a strong advocate for tougher sentencing laws when he was elected to the General Assembly in 1992.
In 1996, he was elected to represent Illinois’ 5th District in the U.S. House of Representatives. While a congressman, he secured funding for after-school tutoring programs and distinguished himself as an advocate for education. He was also a leader in the fight to establish a Patients’ Bill of Rights, to assure prompt access to mammograms, and to require higher safety and care standards at nursing homes.
So one of these governors has served in the military, and one of these governors has served himself in the government employ. Personally, I’d take the insight from the one with actual experience in the field more than the insight from the one whose insight runs to electoral campaigns.
But I’m not a real journalist, so I’m missing the beauty of the direct opposition of their viewpoints and how they build drama and conflict into something that’s much of a story with which to begin.
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Let It Be Known
Whereas Musings from Brian J. Noggle is sort of grateful for the traffic represented in its semi-dominant position as seventeenth in the Google search for where to buy heroin in oakland ca, we on the staff prefer to think our law enforcement officials have more competence than to simply monkey-type searches in the search engines as part of a complete investigation.
Thank you, that is all.
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Book Report: Sharky’s Machine by William Diehl (1978)
Continuing what only appears to be 70s Week here in the MfBJN book review department: I bought this book at the Kirkwood Book Fair for $2.00 because I recognized the name from the 1981 Burt Reynolds movie and thought that, since it was only $2.00 for a stated second printing, it might be worth something Of course, since I seem to be falling into collecting books that are the sources of movies (more to come from the Kirkwood Book Fair where I fell), I guess it is worth that to me, even though I’m not making a killing on these books. Perhaps it’s just my way of reading the pop culture that everyone talked about some years ago.
At any rate, this book depicts a narc cop (Sharky) who gets put on vice detail when one of his narc stakeouts takes a deadly turn. Once in vice, he gets a case to run, complete with supporting personnel (the “machine” of the title). A simple investigation into a prostitution/blackmail stakeout leads to a presidential candidate looking to unseat President Ford bankrolled by stolen World War II gold.
The book starts out Ludlumesque, but about 300 pages into its 370 page length, the book goes Hollywood. You can almost hear the pens of the Hollywood people signing the option while Diehl was still writing. Nevertheless, the book represents some interesting, accessibly 70s pseudo-pulp. The book relies on a third person limited omniscient narrator, but cuts back and forth betwene characters and even begins with the 1944 theft of gold to engage the middle-aged reader of its day. Equal parts MacLean, Ludlum, and 70s film detective fiction, this book satisfied me. For a couple bucks, who could go wrong?
Of course, you cannot expect to get a stated Second Printing for a couple bucks like I did, gentle reader. You should expect to pay $30 or $150 or something so as to inflate my perceived value of my own collection. If you’re not buying the stuff off of Amazon courtesy the handy links below, it’s the least you could do.
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Life in Canada
Share this moment with that special Canadian in your life.
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Pancho Villa 2006
So the plan is to put 6,000 of our military troops on the border in advisory sorts of roles. Am I the only one who looks at this and sees the possibility for an escalation of sorts?
Because it’s one thing for those reputed Mexican Army incursions to barnstorm across the border and pop off a few rounds at U.S. Border control officials, but it will be another thing entirely to have an exchange with the United States military. As a sometime fiction writer, I can see how easily one or more of these sorts of incidents would lead to a hot pursuit into Mexican territory, and suddenly we have a whole new another Mexican Expedition underway.
It’s easy to forget, with our current public education-enforced historical myopia, just how ultimately unpeaceful our relationship has been with Mexico.
Update: Okay, so I’m not the first to remember Pancho Villa.
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Headline of the Day
Charity freeze money collected from raffle sales
To someone at the Post-Dispatch, no doubt charity is the plural of the original Latin charitum.
And if you click through the link to the story, note that it deals with one of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch‘s current crusade stories. On any given day in the last week or so, you can find the front page of stltoday.com banging on the drums in its current outrage kit:
- The Overland mayor who, after a close election, wants to throw out some of the city officials (today’s story: Hearing on Overland police chief to begin Tuesday). The Post-Dispatch, the people’s paper, sides against the elected representive of the people on behalf of unelected officials and cheers all sorts of procedural moves and an ultimate trip to the judiciary to thwart the rabble. Go, team! (For a complete list of stories and attendant column inches regarding this small municipality in the last month, click here.)
- A somewhat dubious charity called Gateway to a Cure that has run expensive raffles in the area for the last ten years. The Post-Dispatch has run articles digging for dirt for over a month now. They’ve not uncovered a smoking gun, but they have gotten another investigation of the charity. Kudos to the Post-Dispatch for ensuring that a struggling charity has to pay legal defense bills. (For more stories from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch about the charity, click here.)
Full disclosure: Heather and I rented a hall from this guy’s brother for our wedding reception, so for the price of a low rate, I’ve obviously sold the integrity of the blog. We never got our Shania Twain CD back from the brother after he played that innocuous “From This Moment On” for our first dance, so perhaps I ought to jump on the bandwagon and pillory the charity owner.
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Nuance
Border troops would be temporary, US tells Mexico
Because they’ll only be on the border before the invasion.
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Missing the Bigger Scandal
CNN tries to gin up the old outrage that Report: Mentally ill troops forced into combat, wherein only troops who aren’t down in the dumps go off to war.
No, CNN, you’re missing the bigger scandal: The American military is violating the Americans with Disabilities Act by sending those troops off to war without their emotional needs dogs.
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Book Report: His Affair by Jo Fleming (1976)
I bought this book at the Belleville Book Fair last weekend for a couple pennies because frankly I needed something to fill the $2.00 bag I’d already bought. Besides, it sounded interesting. The cover freatures the title in a very seventies script and offers this teaser: The powerful true story of one woman’s confrontation with every woman’s nightmare. Granted, that was 30 years ago, and some women have different nightmares by now, but a spouse’s affair remains a nightmare for some subset of the population.
The first section is entitled Ending, the second Midway: The Second Year, and the third Beginning. So the book right away carries with it the progression of some sort of self-help mental health journey.
Ending does capture the pseudonymbous author’s discovery of her husband’s affair as they return from a trip. His mistress just cannot help herself and writes him a letter delivered to the hotel, and the husband proceeds to read it on the plane in front of his wife. The woman then has to question their marriage, their life together, and everything she’s known for 25 years. I thought perhaps the book would serve, if nothing else, as a fable of how marriages crumble under time and hopefully could serve as a reminder to not let the dwindling communication and elusive intimacy affect your marriage.
However, somewhere towards the end of the ending, it became clear that Jo Fleming was going to overcome the affair by becoming some sort of whackerdoodle post-Sexual Revolution open marriage proponent, and that at the climax of the book, she would overcome her Victorian upbringing and have an affair of her own as she went beyond fidelity.
Ergo, the book develops a series of diary entries chronicling her growth with her husband into some 1970s era Greatest Generation Geriatric emotional swingers. It’s rife with dream recreations and interpretations, dialogues between her and her husband, her and her therapist, her and her husband’s therapist, and her and herself. The writing’s somewhat adolescent and repetitive, easily skimmable–a quality I learned to appreciate by the end of the second year.
Essentially, it’s a twisted rendition of The Total Woman; to build a better, more loving marriage, instead of working inside that marriage, this book advocates going outside the marriage to fulfill your emotional and sexual needs. Now, while that might play on Manhattan, where the narrator of this book resides among the so-cosmopolitan set, here in the middle of the country, that sort of thing sometimes gets a person dead.
Oddly enough, even though it’s purportedly a true story by a diarist who wants to be a writer, I thought the book might be a clumsy novel. I mean, most spouses don’t frequently sit down and share weepy moments while exalting in their spiritual growth and moral nihilism immediately before encouraging each other to keep growing, where "growing" is a euphemism for going all the way with the handsome fellow in the office. Therefore, I felt perhaps someone had packaged up a rough draft of How To Save Your Own Life without Erica Jong’s Jongness, or whatever made that particular novel worth its weight in wood pulp.
Perhaps I’m being unduly harsh on this book. Perhaps I’m reeling from the offense at being blindered, as the author says:
Some people, reading this diary, might disapprove of the freedom we have tried to introduce into our marriage; they will be the ones who grew up when I did and have somehow managed to keep their blinders on. (p 160)
Well, lovey, perhaps some of us aren’t so ready to sacrifice our morals and our standards for to serve a tawdry narrative, even if that narrative happens to be a life.
So I spent a handful of pennies on it, and I personally wouldn’t spend it again on this book, but I did get my money’s worth on personal outrage and words for the blog, ainna?
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Police Seeking Sexual Fetish
Look at what can happen when you cannot tell the difference between a compound sentence and a compound predicate:
A man’s sexual fetish crosses the line into the bizarre and is now wanted by police.
The world must be a much more interesting place for the ignorant.
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