A newspaper consists of just the same number of words, whether there be any news in it or not.
Amnesty wouldn’t agree, but I am a tortured individual. (True story: my sister-in-law used to be high up at Amnesty International. A half hour in her company is like being waterboarded, but without that refreshed feeling you get afterwards.) I worry a lot.
I worry about being unfair. I worry about offending those who don’t deserve it. I worry about appearing condescending when mere snobbishness is called for.
I don't particularly worry about people not getting a joke. I worry that my quixotic stand against
likes will get me banned from purgatory, where they’re mandatory. I worry about what Mark Twain said
(with a little help from his friends), but have also been known to savour ambiguity. I worry about looking sad by talking to myself so often.
Look sad to whom, logic will compel one of my alter egos to ask, not unkindly.
My latest worry is that it might seem as if I’m ignoring replies to the FNRttC poll. The truth is I’m tired of seeing my own name, and am grateful to have somebody else’s out there on the board index.
All of which is my way of saying, thank you for the contributions.
When I'm not thanked at all, I'm thanked enough, I've done my duty, and I've done no more.
