I didn't have as much time for trawling the waters off the coast of Blogistan for the sentences that are the spawn of posts, but I did find a few standouts. Click for the context:
:: Whatever happens with the Space Program -- hell, whatever your thoughts on manned spaceflight or government sponsorship -- don't deny them this: There are thousands of people who believe in what they do, and who have been giving heart and soul to make this work. (Amen, brother.)
:: I'd like to thank The Velveteen Rabbit for convincing me that EVERY-DAMN-THING has a soul. What is it with bunnies and fiction? I'm not even going to mention the crap that happened in my dorky little mind when I read Watership Down. Damn bunnies. (You see, I keep meaning to read Watership Down, but then I read something like this, and I think along the lines of Foghorn Leghorn: "Actually, I'd better not look. I just might be in there.")
:: The House Majority Leader likes opera. (Well, so did Hitler!)
:: August makes me hate the world, and everything in it. (I think that ACD lives somewhere on the northeastern seaboard, if memory serves correctly, in which case he's almost certainly correct: August is a Godawful horror of a month, if you live in those locales. Here in Buffalo, it's July that I detest with a passion. August is when things start, ever so slowly, to turn for the better: the humidity starts to slowly drop, as do the temperatures. By the end of the month, we should be down into the high 70s pretty consistently here. Today, actually, we're enjoying the kind of day that hasn't been seen here since early June, I suspect: it's cool and rainy. August in Buffalo is, for me, the best of the summer months. June is pleasant, but I tend to feel a dread for the July that is to come, and July just basically blows. August, though, is bearable -- and there are times in August when I can feel the refreshing wonderment that is Autumn, lurking somewhere just beyond my range of vision.)
:: This man is too dangerous to let anywhere near the presidency. He's simply Dick Cheney with a better backstory.
:: Personally, I think it's normal for young children to find that kind of magical event unsurprising. Consider your kitchen. In that one little room, a child will find:
* A box that makes juice cold, even when the house is warm.
* A box that makes tater tots hot, even when the house is cool.
* A box that turns little, yellow, hard things into big, white, fluffy, yummy things. (And, of course, the tall box that makes ordinary water into a foul-smelling black potion that each morning converts mean, surly parents into relaxed, loving parents.)
That's it for this week. Good stuff abounds, as always, although I'm finding that since I've started this lark of concentrating on mere sentences, I'm wanting to expand each sentence into the basis of an entire post of mine. Keeping it brief is getting harder. So, does anyone like this series? I enjoy putting it together each Sunday.