- Bark. Tomorrow's a High Egoslavian Holy Day, so bark today.
- It's not me, it's my dying eyes I find photographing fascinating.
- On Bears Ears. Not quite the trigger elephant killers are for me, but close.
- Condor Wing Five.
- The Year of Environmental Disaster.
- Ever the same.
- Trumplandia.
- Donald Trump's Brains.
- Earthgirl walked into a hallway pillar at her elementary school last week, whacked her head above her right eye, status as of last night:
- She's OK and pain free. The colors are fabulous.
- Hilltop Fuckers. The most unsurprising result possible.
- Ishiguro makes his Nobel speech today. I love Ishiguro. Fuck the Nobel.
- Adam's actual sin.
- The Anxiety of Poetry?
- Good Reader, Bad Reader?
- Re: the above link: I was born without Nabokov gene.
- Marla the Dog. A friend's. The day I retire I'm getting a dog.
- #775.
- It's time to move corpses to the cemetery blogrolls, you have until this weekend to avoid burial.
- Twitterstan be dying too.
- Bark. Sunday is a High Egoslavian Holy Day, hint below tomorrow's High Egoslavian Holy Day hint.
From the NYT announcement, a quote: “The whole problem of what the novel is supposed to be doing and what literature’s value is, whether it is truth or morality or what my friends accuse me of — aesthetic bliss — this will continue to go on.” True dat.
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