The only time people use the word “lest” anymore is on Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day, when they like to say, “Lest we forget.”

It’s a pompous, pretentious word, and I don’t care for it.



If you have an old CD of an old album, on the back it will say:

This compact disc contains program transferred from analog tape, and therefore may contain some tape hiss and other anomalies that exist with analog recording.

If you have a new CD of an old album, on the front it will say:




It doesn’t bother me that Brian Williams inflated a story to make himself look better.  Guys do that in bars all the time.

What bothers me is that he perpetuated a false narrative which led to a war that killed over a million people, created several million homeless refugees, and continues to rage on long after America has had her parades and pinned medals on her heroes.

So far, nobody has been suspended for that one.


So, a few nights ago I dreamed I was a tea bag.

Not that I was drinking tea, or preparing tea, but that I was an actual bag of tea, immersed in water.  I think it’s the only time I’ve ever dreamt I was an inanimate object.

If the universe was trying to send me a message with this dream, she’ll have to try again because I haven’t got a clue.