Salam Pax: Damn right someone should offer him a writing job. W00t!
Holy socks. People are just leaving planes laying around full of gas and with the keys in them. Is my mom in charge of this airport?!
Okay, reopening bets on whether the 2004 elections will be held. Check this out and tell which side you’re on, brother.
OH NO! Folks, Reading Rainbow is a wonderful show and it doesn’t deserve to die for lack of funding. If all geeks within the sound of my keyboard will kindly open their wallets — if not for the love of literature, for the love of Geordie — we can at least help out.
A really grand article on information overload, which will keep y’all occupied while I get caught up enough on emaile tc. to explain where I’ve been these past two weeks.
Ben Tripp can use “yclept” in a sentence, but that’s not why you need to read this article immediately.
So I’m sitting here watching ESPN and listening to Mike Lupica huff and puff in the Vijay Singh vein — wnats us to know that Annika Sorenstam is all about marketing. Yeah, pookie, that’s something no boy athlete ever does. (Oh, and the hits just keep coming: Barkley’s up there very pleased with himself for answering a hypothetical question with a statement along the lines of “well, that’s not the case!” — after which he was startled to have the exclusion of women in various sports compared to the exclusion of blacks. Can a ball player be punchdrunk?)
Hey! HEY! Christmas is coming, right? Hanukkah? Or you wanted to get me a housewarming gift or something? (Hell, get me a house. Don’t have one of those yet, heaven help us all, especially the poor guy at CIA headquarters who’ll have to talk me out of striking a small camp on the lawn here in northern VA.) Anyway, this is both lovely and tasteful, and I would be sure to send you a very nice card.
Now this is what I call a major tech story.
Salam Pax lives! Hurray!!! He’s managed a huge amount of writing during his offline time; as ever, entirely worth your time. (And not only for the phrase “the sex life of palm trees makes me weep,” though that’s certainly a draw for the rest of us hay-fever sufferers.)