Views: 30
Monthly Archives: September 2023
Plus, the anti-vaxxers tend to be anti-mask
At least the people who will die will likely skew Republican. I have no desire to see anyone die but if you die of Covid today, the chances are that you should receive a Darwin Award, i.e., chances are that your poor decisions are largely responsible.
Views: 33
John Cage did this 70 years ago in music
It’s no longer clever or original and he should give the money back.
Views: 37
Poem of the day
Thorp Green
by Branwell Brontë (1817-1848)
I sit, this evening, far away,
From all I used to know,
And nought reminds my soul to-day
Of happy long ago.
Unwelcome cares, unthought-of fears,
Around my room arise;
I seek for suns of former years
But clouds o’ercast my skies.
Yes–Memory, wherefore does thy voice
Bring old times back to view,
As thou wouldst bid me not rejoice
In thoughts and prospects new?
I’ll thank thee, Memory, in the hour
When troubled thoughts are mine–
For thou, like suns in April’s shower,
On shadowy scenes wilt shine.
I’ll thank thee when approaching death
Would quench life’s feeble ember,
For thou wouldst even renew my breath
With thy sweet word ‘Remember’!
Views: 20
Welcome news
If only the administration would recognize the right of people who arrive at the border (or who enter illegally) to apply for asylum.
Views: 37
Game of the week
A tribute to Kate Gasser (1947-2022), one of the US’s top women players in the 1970s, whose death I only recently learned of.
Views: 17
The racial divide in longevity
Alas, this is dog-bites-man non-news but who wants to live to 100 anyway?
(Author Bill Kole was once AP’s bureau chief in Vienna and I covered some tournaments for him circa 2002.)
Views: 33
Game of the week
In memory of Joel Johnson (1955-2023), another (former) New England master who recently passed on.
Views: 71
Poem of the day
A la Forest de Gastine
by Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585)
Couché sous tes ombrages vers,
Gastine, je te chante
Autant que les Grecs par leurs vers
La forest d’Erymanthe.
Car malin, celer je ne puis
A la race future
De combien obligé je suis
A ta belle verdure:
Toy, qui sous l’abry de tes bois
Ravy d’esprit m’amuses:
Toy, qui fais qu’à toutes les fois
Me respondent les Muses:
Toy, par qui de ce mechant soin
Tout franc je me délivre,
Lors qu’en toy je me pers bien loin.
Parlant avec un livre.
Tes bocages soient tousjours pleins
D’amoureuses brigades,
De Satyres et de Sylvains,
La crainte des Naiades.
En toy habite désormais
Des Muses le college,
Et ton bois ne sente jamais
La flame sacrilège.
Views: 39