This page is at a bit of a crossroads. On the one hand, we have a page whose theme is "one misanthrope's discomfort in this world." On the other hand, that misanthrope has recently restructured his entire life, predicating it on his own comfort. What to write about? How beautiful the weather is? How beautiful it was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before? I liked Hornby's book okay. The grilled chicken I made yesterday was okay. The job is going okay. The Steelers looked okay. Ed the dog is okay. Okay, okay, okay.
Okay?
Annette says my muse needs me to come in to Redmond more often and fill up on hostility. I think Annette is being self-serving, but that doesn't make her wrong. "When there's an endless flow of peachy-keen days, it's hard for even the best to come up with something to talk about," she says.
So this week, I travel to Redmond to conference-call with a team in the Middle East. That ought to do it.
Much has been written about Mel Gibson's recent psychosis, and far be it from me to pile on two weeks late. Instead, I'm going to express my grudging admiration for the man. Who among us, drunk off our butt and being stuffed into the back of a squad car, would be able to correctly identify the arresting officer as Jewish? His Jewdar is finely tuned indeed. Most impressive.