Things I Forgot to Tell You

I was just thinking about you.

And I thought, I can’t be him anymore.

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I like it when they say that the boys racing their bikes up the Tourmalet are in a “spot of bother.”

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Ready. Set. Don’t bother.

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I read that democracy was dead.
Long live democracy.

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Another man knocked at the door. Or should I say, Jack came knocking. Better yet, Jack came knocking with gifts. He said, “happy birthday, you old fool,” and we chatted like two pondering 46-year-olds do. Thanks, Jack. Next time, let’s rock.

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I gave up politics for a month and I feel like I don’t need to shower as much.

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For Thanksgiving I want to be a scary monster.

Oh wait, wrong holiday.

Nevermind.

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Okay, fine, I’ll explain: Michel Houellebecq.

‘Nuf said.

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A man at the supermarket walked out toward the parking lot with his five-year old daughter today. He slowly approached the crosswalk, looked at all the moving cars, stopped, and asked her: “What do we do here?”

“Shop!” she called out.

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Fifteen years ago my wife, Stacy, and I hosted John Gatto at our Walden home. Gatto, in case you haven’t Googled him yet, is a homeschooling guru. At the time, we were childless and fighting the closing of Walden’s four one-room schoolhouses in favor of what we called the “factory school.”

We lost. Imagine that.

But this week we have returned to our homeschooling dreams. For the duration of the so-called school year I will be Isabel’s “teacher.”

I won. Imagine that.

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Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything. Really.

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The noise in the village was extreme. They said the road foreman struck a deal. We should all be so lucky.

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The only thing worse than a mistake is a mistake with no meaning.

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I’ve been thinking: You’re wrong.

But, as you’d say, I don’t mean to be judgmental.

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No tyranny is so irksome as petty tyranny: the officious demands of policemen, government clerks, and electromechanical gadgets. –Edward Abbey

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Cue the music:

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“Whatever.” — Houellebecq