It’s wrong to hope for a conviction for any reason besides guilt. But I do it anyway.
Judging is very hard to do.
A few words from a momentarily homeless editor emeritus.
I drove a few hundred miles to trade my two youngest children for a generator, gasoline, and 3 Walmart bag of batteries and various illumination devices. Though it might sound like the plot to the next Mad Max movie, I deemed it a responsible parenting decision.
Should I buy a car from Larry’s Automobiles, a dealer known colloquially as Larry’s Lemons?
Without my feminist foremothers, I could not vote, own property, practice law, effectively decide the size of my family, etc. American women owe a lot to feminism, whether they admit it or not. Nevertheless, I admit to finding myself bristling- and rolling my eyes- at much of what passes for feminism today.
Car was recently totaled. I need advice from grown-ups.
Last time, I promised you I would write a bit about microfoundations. I will not be doing that today. I apologize for breaking my promise, but it is to my great sorrow that I must digress. Instead of the planned topic, I will revisit motivation. More specifically, I will revisit my own motivation for the campaign I am running right now.
So, the other day I tweeted disagreement with popular Twitter personality Jesse Kelly, and found myself at the bottom of a dog pile.
I can’t say for certain when the first time I ever heard an Aretha Franklin album was. Her music was simply always there, in the the same way that Ella’s music was always there. I was weaned on her music, and to it.
After the eulogy, a peculiar hollowness.
Today is Wendell Berry’s birthday. He’s 84. May his 85th year on this planet be a bountiful and invigorating one. Maribou elaborates on her feelings about his work, inside.
Looking towards an empty nest.
I felt so disappointed for my son in his inability to excel at baseball. I had simply concluded that he lacked talent, and that was that. Of course, I would cheer him on and encourage him as long as he was interested, but, I assumed, the writing was on the wall. I pigeonholed him as “not an athlete”, just like me. Knowing now that it is quite likely that his vision was at least partially to blame for his trouble is a humbling reminder: our kids are not just small versions of ourselves.
The story of an American dreaming of an America from abroad.
Burt Likko has one of those sorts of problems that really aren’t such bad problems to have.
You know what they say about fighting on the internet: even if you win, you’re still a loser. But Twitter has taught me that it can actually be good for you, if you do it right.
Introducing lawyer, liberal, and new Ordinary Times staff writer, Em Carpenter.
Advice to a supporter of a controversial anti-gay rights amendment.
A partial setlist with autobiographical fragments.
Fan? I’ve Seen It Over 100 Times on Three Continents!
A garage sale completes the ironic tableau.
Saul learns his class position in the art world.
Pondering good fortune open to few others.
Please don’t defend Roy Moore. At least not where I can hear it.
[CN: more or less the same as yesterday’s feature, to which this one relates. Relationships with a very large age gap, where one partner is a teenager. I was personally very upset by one sentence in here, but because of how very well it articulated something the author criticizes, a thing that my father also wanted and shouldn’t have wanted – a thing that another old man I know who is on trial right now also wanted and shouldn’t have wanted – not because of anything explicit. The essay was more than worth the resulting flashbacks, but I was grateful to have been warned before I read it. Can you have a trigger warning for insight? (Don’t get distracted into debating that in the comments, please.) — Maribou]
Tomatoes are daunting!!! DAUNTING!!!
Another trip to Qatar. Another handful of anecdotes.
Pretty Much What It Says On The Tin
It is mostly very easy to be the Consort of the Priestess of Bast. Sometimes it is very hard.
If you want a creature that repeats lines from a textbook, get a parrot.
In which a fourteen-pound cat causes sleep-deprived Burt Likko a week’s worth of trouble.
A fourth business trip to Qatar, this time with a visit to a medical clinic
“November 8, 2016, 4pm. My boss swings by my desk. She’s smiling, putting her coat on, talking of champagne with neighbors. She leaves, I check Facebook. Lots of selfies. One from Liv- white pantsuit, red ‘I voted’ sticker, red lipstick to match. It’s all planned. I close it. I flash back to 2004, downtown Hilton, DNC headquarters. A young democrat plays a hopeful melody on the lobby piano while we all get drunk in the ballroom bracing for victory, which never comes.”
Carrie Fisher was so much more than Princess Leia.
Where a father attempts to review the new Final Fantasy game.
Some experiences are best shared, because you really DON’T want to experience it for yourself.