The Passing Parade: Cheap Shots from a Drive By Mind

"...difficile est saturam non scribere. Nam quis iniquae tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se..." " is hard not to write Satire. For who is so tolerant of the unjust City, so steeled, that he can restrain himself... Juvenal, The Satires (1.30-32)

Thursday, November 13, 2008

My apologies, one and all, for the lack of posts for the past week or so. The lack of posting is not due to one of my reoccurring bouts of writer’s block nor is for a lack of ideas, time to write, nor for any one of the usual excuses I use to avoid going anywhere near pencil and paper. No, what we have here is a hellacious cold that does not want to give up its grippe on my respiratory system despite my hitting this puppy with vitamin C, fluids, and even chicken soup. As you might imagine, I am not having fun here in my corner of our happy little burg; in fact, I’ve spent a good portion of the past week wishing that I was dead, and that a large number of other people, preferably relatives, Red Sox fans, and triumphalist Democrats, were as well. Misery, as the old saw has it, just loves company.

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