Well, yesterday brought a ka-bong letter on my latest novel. I haven't given up on it yet, but such events push me toward discussing topics distant from my own failures. Like this one.
Today, I was walking the dogs just as the sprinkling rain began. Suddenly, I spied an inchworm working its way along the sidewalk to 2nd Ave, perhaps for cocktails at donatella&davidburke? Its signature locomotion was as cheery and wonderful to see as it was incongruous in this cement Legoland. May one of the following delight you.
1) Walter Williams takes on the newest cash cow, safety belt laws. I hate the ones I'm required to wear, and resist the back seat versions even though people have recently told me gruesome, true stories about life-changing accidents. Thank goodness I'm still free to be backwards.
2) It's not my fear of heights. The "virus-laden poo" is the reason I don't climb.
3) More proof that hypersensitive PC-ness turns normal people into a bunch of histrionic, thin-skinned, tantrum-prone toddlers. A civil society of mutual respect should not require becoming as duplicitous and mealy-mouthed as... I'll say it ... a career diplomat. However, if you disagree, you'll be comforted by this Mark Steyn article from the Telegraph. As violent crime continues rising in England, miscreants like Sam Brown are pounced upon by six officers and a fleet of patrol cars, jailed overnight, and fined for speculating on the sexual orientation of an officer's horse.
4) In a topic I've ranted on before, Anne Applebaum of the Washington Post points out that the greatest increases in airport security have come from the airlines themselves. Current security screening is intrusive, time-consuming, costly, and doesn't work. Our latest father and son tag team of aspiring dirty-bombers from California were discovered through their patterns of international travel. We should re-privatize airline security. We'd get rid of the patdowns of 8 and 80-year olds, increase the technology in luggage and cargo screening, and put security personnel to work gathering intelligence not plastic buckets.
5) The celebrated American character isn't extinct yet. A grandmother gets stuck in her bathtub for five days. A friendly neighbor kid notices her absence and actually gets help. Her family isn't suing the bathtub maker, they're buying handrails. And our plucky heroine celebrates her freedom from porcelain with a Parliament 100 and a Coke. Rock on!