Writes all the things. Most of the things never write back.
My next idea to make a fortune: you’ve seen the ads for shirts designed to be worn untucked, right? How about a really LONG shirt so it doesn’t matter if you’re even actually wearing pants to tuck them into (or not)?
Instead of a nightshirt, I’ll call it a dayshirt.
You saw it here first.
Just saw a plot description about a kidnapped scientist and a rescue team trying to beat the clock, and I thought, just rescue the scientist and leave the poor clock alone!
The word of the night is deprivation.
Deprivation reminds me of another recent word, denude. If privation is the lack of essentials, shouldn’t DEprivation mean the removal from that condition?
A movie trailer has a character described as “pure evil.”
Now I want to write a character of impure evil. She’ll kill you, but you can fool around a little first.
I don’t know how to break it to you other than to just say it:
Super Bowl LI is NOT being played in Long Island, as you might have thought.
”It’s none of their business that you have to learn how to write. Let them think you were born that way.”
~ Ernest Hemingway
Both the Screen Actors Guild awards and the NFL Pro Bowl are on tonight. I’ll be switching back and forth between the two, which may result in me seeing an award for Best Acting in Exaggerating an Injury on the Field.
The new New Years Eve tradition:
BURNING THE CALENDAR FOR THIS YEAR.
We SURVIVED YOU, 2016.
Yeah, I know. Years are just an arbitrary way of delineating things. BUT — THIS particular arbitrary delineation is an outlier. I take note of deaths in the course of a year. I keep a list. Not just celebrities, but others I know; it’s just a form of remembrance.
I had to look, just to satisfy my curiosity. How many have there been this year, and how many last year, just to pick a convenient year for comparison.
Last year, there were 70 on my list. The most notable one for me was Leonard Nimoy. This year, I counted earlier today, was 87. Now adding Debbie Reynolds, 88. And there are a LOT more highly notables, and many before what could conventionally be considered “their time” — too young.
So, 2016 is worse than our collective most recent frame of reference, 2015. And not by just a little.
When I was in Oswego today? When there was a blizzard warning? And I ran into absolute whiteout conditions? And I was carrying boxes to my car and when both hands were occupied with car keys and boxes, my hat blew off my head and my reading glasses blew off my face? And even with holding the car door, I was worried it was going to rip off?
I found out tonight the winds were 84 mph in Oswego. That’s more than the hurricane I went through with Stephen Hunter. Good times.