It’s not gossip if it’s just people talking. Secrets are basically impossible in this modern age of communication. You are welcome.

(Unlike Carly Simon, “Yes, this post is about you.”)

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There is nothing quite like listening to “Ride of the Valkyries” at high volume in a space bigger than most churches to underscore each and every single wrong decision one has made in one’s life.

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Any expressed exaggerated anticipation of the weekend is a de facto admission of loathing toward one’s own job; or, at minimum, a failure to appreciate the precious linear diminishing of those moments still available to you. (Edit: this means that the seminal classic “Everybody’s Working for the Weekend” is in fact a denunciation of work.)

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I ate about 50 asparagus stalks last night. It seems I now have superpowers, but not ones that polite society might admire.

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I applied for a patent for a Polychromatic Atmospheric Dispersion device. The idea is to propel 1700 pounds of multi-colored particles into the lower atmosphere. When it rains, the colors would fall with rain droplets, covering the ground below with hundreds of distinct colors. The patent office replied, “Get your head out of the clouds.” I’m not sure if this is a “Yes” or “No” vote. It might anger many people, but I bet the interesting people would be outside, laughing and enjoying the spectacle.

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“Nobody thinks you are funny, X,” he said. “Good, then nobody can laugh,” I replied. (Although it is odd to me when someone speaks for everyone.)

(The picture is one I made with a quote from the book “Dune.”)

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