Time for this week's roundup!
:: Don’t ever dial 411 on your celly phone. (Why? Click through and find out!)
:: I suppose its true that the Native Americans got screwed over, back in the day. Let me tell you, though, inch by inch they are going to get their own back. It'll take time, but we are just stupid enough to turn our cities over to them, and then all bets will be off.
:: Today is Pratie Place's first birthday. I've fed the blog almost every day for a year! (Congrats! But be wary, because blogs just get more and more hungry, and they're lazy, too. They're the Net equivalent of a big, fat cat.)
:: I wonder if this is why science fiction's market share is declining. I also wonder if Ringo's fans have ever gone on dates. (Oh, good lord. You have to follow a couple of links to get to the entire passage that Randy excerpts here. I've never read Ringo, since military SF isn't my thing, and now I know for sure that I'm not going to. Ick, ick, ick.)
:: Add salt and pepper to taste, and dig in with a knife and fork while it is hot--all the while giving thanks for the humble smoked hock. (You know, I'm not sure that I've ever eaten a pork hock before. This is a really good, and offbeat, blog, by the way.)
:: As great as he was, Martin Luther King Jr. is dead. Dead men AND women don't lead movements. Live ones do. (Great point: where are the MLK's of today?)
:: Suddenly realizing that everyone who meets me from now on will assume that, given my age, I am divorced. That this fact shouldn't matter to me, but it does. (I discovered Et al. before Little Quinn died, but I still read it. She lost a husband to a lengthy illness; not the same thing as a CP-afflicted todler to a probable crib-death, but still, grief is grief. I wonder how I'll answer the inevitable question, "How many kids do you have?")
All for this week.