Dang. WSJ, you really know how to hurt a guy. Nothing gold can stay.
One day (which is to say, never) I will write a long New Yorker-ish piece on why Extreme Makeover: Home Edition is the TV show of our age. Until then, take a hit off the hope pipe. If nothing else it has surpassed Overhaulin’s record for “number of men genuinely weeping on national television.”
The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm than the one he is heading for (at some forty-five hundred heartbeats an hour)
— Vladimir Nabokov, from Speak, Memory
Subject of a spam e-mail received today: “Your friend is dead, so bury him”