Dear Montag
A grim day. A grim day with grim skies. But I think maybe it was a little warmer. I went downstairs and out front about an hour ago, and it felt more hospitable than yesterday. The NWS says our high was 54˚F, and it is now 54˚F. So yeah, warmer than yesterday, by a smidge. But there's some nasty cold coming for Saturday and Saturday night, talking a snow flurries, a low of 22˚F. But just then it's right back up in 60s˙F by Monday. Hopefully, this is Birningham's last cold snap of the dying winter of 2021-2022.
I worked this morning. The macrobaenid paper. Some talk with Bill at SubPress. I woke a little before 6 a.m. and got up on the hour. I'm reading Larry McMurty's Lonesome Dove again, and it's a good way to wake up while the sun rises over Shades Mountain.
We watched more Seinfeld last night. Season Two is much better than that very short Season One. And there's just a comfort in it. I'm watching episodes that were knew when I was 24 years old and the world was still the world. The 1980s are not the decade I'd choose to relive, but even they are head and shoulders above the cesspool of the 2020s.
I can't get censorship off my mind, and these days that seems to mean the efforts of the left more than the efforts of the right. Remember when it was the right trying to censor books and music, art and movies? No longer. Now, it's the left that seems perpetually offended and "hurt" by everything, seeking to create some perfectly inoffensive society, pale and bland as mayonnaise.
"There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches." ~ Ray Bradbury
But, remember, it's for your own good. That's what they always say. Of course, we don't dare call it censorship these days. We're only cleansing the world of culturally et al. insensitive whathaveyous. So everyone will be happy. Just like Heaven.
I have gone Outside now every day for eight days in a row. I have not done that, probably, in years.
And there's this other thing I want to talk about, an unfolding case of genuine child abuse/misogyny that I wish I did not know of, but I do. Not today, though. I don't have it in me today. There's just too much horror in the world.
Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. Thanks.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
4:50 p.m.
I worked this morning. The macrobaenid paper. Some talk with Bill at SubPress. I woke a little before 6 a.m. and got up on the hour. I'm reading Larry McMurty's Lonesome Dove again, and it's a good way to wake up while the sun rises over Shades Mountain.
We watched more Seinfeld last night. Season Two is much better than that very short Season One. And there's just a comfort in it. I'm watching episodes that were knew when I was 24 years old and the world was still the world. The 1980s are not the decade I'd choose to relive, but even they are head and shoulders above the cesspool of the 2020s.
I can't get censorship off my mind, and these days that seems to mean the efforts of the left more than the efforts of the right. Remember when it was the right trying to censor books and music, art and movies? No longer. Now, it's the left that seems perpetually offended and "hurt" by everything, seeking to create some perfectly inoffensive society, pale and bland as mayonnaise.
"There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches." ~ Ray Bradbury
But, remember, it's for your own good. That's what they always say. Of course, we don't dare call it censorship these days. We're only cleansing the world of culturally et al. insensitive whathaveyous. So everyone will be happy. Just like Heaven.
I have gone Outside now every day for eight days in a row. I have not done that, probably, in years.
And there's this other thing I want to talk about, an unfolding case of genuine child abuse/misogyny that I wish I did not know of, but I do. Not today, though. I don't have it in me today. There's just too much horror in the world.
Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. Thanks.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
4:50 p.m.