When I used to drop my son off for a half day of pre-school, he’d try every trick in the book — Dad, I need someone to push me on the swings! — to get me to stay just a few more minutes . . .
Misspellings are in the original document:
I am not the most organised person in the world. I have a poor short-term memory, so I write things down. But because I have a poor short-term memory, I loose the paper. I tried to become more organised — I brought Getting Things Done. Then I lost it. I feel I might be more organised if I stop loosing my organisational aids.
This is such an inane activity — snorkeling, that is, not biting people in half — that if you find yourself engaged in it, it’s a pretty good indication that your life has already gone on way too long.
Of course it is only a game, but somehow the Trojans, bursting out of that stadium tunnel, have come to stand for a way of life. The sight of those USC teams rolling across the Coliseum grass, dominating their opponents — and without a single penny of government aid that the UCLA’s and Oklahomas and Nebraskas depend on, damn it. All of it happened, year after year, because the school annually turned out a phalanx of new achievers, men who pulled themselves up by the bootstraps and went on to become the cream of their crops and the captains of their industries, men who started companies and expanded businesses that created jobs and took people off the welfare rolls, men who took care to plow back their superabundance into the institution that launched them, so that the Trojan tradition of independence and excellence would go on and on. Yes, the sight of that wave of cardinal and gold articulates everything. Maybe you cannot comprehend that. But a Trojan can.
A little-known sketch of St. Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland . . .
WINNIPEG, Manitoba — A Los Angeles man who sneaked into Canada in February to see his Internet girlfriend will be deported — minus all his fingers and some of his toes, the Winnipeg Sun newspaper reported Tuesday.
“How did you multiply this times 2.5 and get this?” I ask.
He looks at the problem for a while.
“I multiplied it a different way,” he says.
See what song was #1 on your birth date and pretend it’s the theme song for your whole life! Makes as much sense as anything else!
Mine is “To Know Him is to Love Him.”
Here’s another idea: Go back nine months from your birth date and see what your parents might have been listening to when . . . you know . . .
