Category: My writing
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Mealymouthed M-F-ers
Mealymouthed, vacillating pronouncements muddle what is real: We don’t know what to think anymore. This is by design. Oh, well—let them do their thing, let them do it their way, I guess. This is evil; this is genuine evil: It killed six million Jews some eighty years ago—Oh, well, let them do their thing, let…
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My Haiku
I read an important little book written by a nun when I lived in Nagoya, Japan. I guess I was thirty-two or thirty-three years old. I got the little book, small in trim size and under sixty pages in length, at the international book store two floors below my office. We were on the fifth…
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