Time for this week’s roundup!
:: Don’t ever dial 411 on your celly phone. (Why? Click through and find out!)
:: Today is Pratie Place’s first birthday. I’ve fed the blog almost every day for a year! (Congrats! But be wary, because blogs just get more and more hungry, and they’re lazy, too. They’re the Net equivalent of a big, fat cat.)
:: I wonder if this is why science fiction’s market share is declining. I also wonder if Ringo’s fans have ever gone on dates. (Oh, good lord. You have to follow a couple of links to get to the entire passage that Randy excerpts here. I’ve never read Ringo, since military SF isn’t my thing, and now I know for sure that I’m not going to. Ick, ick, ick.)
:: Add salt and pepper to taste, and dig in with a knife and fork while it is hot–all the while giving thanks for the humble smoked hock. (You know, I’m not sure that I’ve ever eaten a pork hock before. This is a really good, and offbeat, blog, by the way.)
:: As great as he was, Martin Luther King Jr. is dead. Dead men AND women don’t lead movements. Live ones do. (Great point: where are the MLK’s of today?)
:: Suddenly realizing that everyone who meets me from now on will assume that, given my age, I am divorced. That this fact shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. (I discovered Et al. before Little Quinn died, but I still read it. She lost a husband to a lengthy illness; not the same thing as a CP-afflicted todler to a probable crib-death, but still, grief is grief. I wonder how I’ll answer the inevitable question, “How many kids do you have?”)
All for this week.
