(no subject)
I just finished Bobby Kennedy's Thirteen Days. Who knew the Cuban Missile Crisis could be so boring? Thankfully, the afterword (by Richard Neustadt and Graham Allison) was a worthwhile read, if only for its seventy-page spotlight on the ethics of zombie-pirate warfare.
Polish is coming to me quickly, leading me to suspect (and not for the first time) that I was Pope John Paul II in a past life. I can pronounce the language much more comfortably than German, which tormented me for six years with its treacherous umlauts and utterly silly mishmash words, not the least of which is "Geschwindigkeitsbegrenzung," or (literally) "speed limit."
This past weekend, I visited Minneapolis, Milwaukee, and Chicago. These three courageous metropolises are waging wars of attrition against winter, wars they will each eventually lose.
Polish is coming to me quickly, leading me to suspect (and not for the first time) that I was Pope John Paul II in a past life. I can pronounce the language much more comfortably than German, which tormented me for six years with its treacherous umlauts and utterly silly mishmash words, not the least of which is "Geschwindigkeitsbegrenzung," or (literally) "speed limit."
This past weekend, I visited Minneapolis, Milwaukee, and Chicago. These three courageous metropolises are waging wars of attrition against winter, wars they will each eventually lose.