Scathing

A nifty little quote from Talk of the Nation today, from an interview regarding the lack of rigor involved in handing out honorary degrees; how it's no longer a way to honor truly prestigious knowledge or involvement, but is now bestowed on all sorts of folk who merely have: "a patina of intellectual lustre" Oh, ouch!

This Is My Town. I Like My Town.

steel bridge framed by the marquam:


my friend scott took this picture. probably whilst on a bike ride. more proof of how spoiled we are.

Mildred Is Not My Favorite Name

A few choice quotes:

"...Mildred would never do anything wrong or foolish."
I reflected a little sadly that this was only too true and hoped I did not appear too much that kind of person to others. Virtue is an excellent thing and we should all strive after it, but it can sometimes be a little depressing.


Did we really need a cup of tea? I even said as much to Miss Statham and she looked at me with a hurt, almost angry look, "Do we need tea?" she echoed. "But Miss Lathbury..." She sounded puzzled and distressed and I began to realise that my question had struck something deep and fundamental. It was the kind of question that starts landslides in the mind.
I mumbled something about making a joke and that of course one needed tea always, at every hour of the day or night.

Excellent Women by Barbara Pym

A book about all things spinsterish from the viewpoint of a (gulp) woman in her early thirties in post-war England. I adore that John Updike had a highly favorable review, as his work is so far removed from Barbara Pym's focus and sensibilities. It makes me like him all the more in the uncomfortable way I do.

Love, Like War...

The major, but vital, contribution of Londoners was their refusal to let their moral be broken by the relentless bombings. And then, one day in May 1941, the Germans took their firepower elsewhere.

It seems the major, but vital, contribution of men to the war of attrition that takes place between the ages of thirteen and about thirty-five, if you're lucky, is our refusal to let our morale be broken. Cheese-eating surrender monkeys would open a packet of char-grilled steak-flavored peanuts, crawl under our sports-themed duvet covers, and stay there until we were certain that the last sparks of sexuality had withered and died. We didn't do that, mostly because we were too stupid. We ignored the air-raid wardens and ran up and down the streets waving torches.

Nick Hornby, Things I've Learned From The Women Who've Dumped Me

(if anyone is wondering, this collection of essays seems to prove out that men learn nothing from the women who dump them. Furthermore, the post title says 'love' but most of the essays are not about any emotion that complex. Instead, there is a strong theme of proving out manliness by 'getting some' of whatever it is the writer thinks he deserves or hopes to get. While there were some hilarious moments, it was all in all, fairly depressing. And would probably be the same if it were essays by the fairer gender on the men who dumped them.)