Thursday, October 28, 2010

I Think I've Got The Grut...


Here are some videos about
Bill Gates (et al.)

. . .

When Eva came in and woke me up -- at 4:28 this morning -- I quickly discovered that my stomach was a bit upset, and it still is now at mid morning. And my sinuses are somewhat congested. And I think I have a slight fever. It's not too bad though, just a nagging irritation. It may be that I carelessly ate too much of the wrong stuff (milk chocolate covered pretzels, etc.) yesterday. Hope that's all it is.

. . .

What's Bugging You?

Bedbugs have already taken up residence at a number of New York City landmarks, including the Metropolitan Opera House, Carnegie Hall, the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, and the Empire State Building.

. . .

A Matter of Life and Death

Much ado is made of the methods used for applying the death penalty. All are described at one time or another by one group or another as being cruel and unusual. It seems to me that a possibly painless and humane method of execution (and eventually, euthanasia) is to employ a medical doctor to anesthetize the subject and stop the heartbeat as is done in cardiac transplant surgery and then disconnect the brain stem and finally remove all the body's blood, keeping the subject anesthetized until irreversible death occurs.

Since I am keenly aware of the limitations of my natural intelligence and any acquired cognitive abilities, I am posting here the above theory in a hope that someone will inform me of what is incorrect about my theory.

. . .

Today I finally sent my votes for the best and second best stories and poems in the Writers Halloween Contest. This year's decision was a hard one, not my vote for first place because of course I voted for my own story, but choosing a second place story kept me rereading all of them for several days. I'm going to keep my reasons for my vote for the second place story to myself.

Yes, that's best.

Today's blog entry is short, but I hope to get to feeling better and can then add to this entry later today...


Writers are people who don't grow up to realize they can't be God.
--Fran Lebowitz

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