Virgil

The Sting

You may have heard about the disappearing bee population around the country, which bodes ill if you're one of those people who get your nutrition from plant or animal sources. Fortunately, we humans have been weaning ourselves off this diet for some time now, so there's no cause for concern on that score.

I've long suspected, however, that the bees weren't actually dying; for one thing, no bee corpses have been found, which is weird. For another, I don't believe in science (too wordy).

And now, of course, as this story makes clear, it's clear the whole disappearance wasn't a massive die off at all.

They've been off somewhere. Plotting.

It was only a matter of time before they figured out they outnumbered us.

Exit, Stage Right

Jerry Falwell

Is not at all well

Out of respect for those who loved him, I'll hold my tongue excpt to say that as a self professed Christian, he could have usd a little more of the forgiveness and love of Jesus of Nazareth , and a little less of the censure, vengeance and judgment of the Old Testament.

As the always brilliant Digby put it: If Falwell's beliefs about the afterlife are correct, I think he may have just had very big surprise.

My Scarlett Letter

I'd just like to thank my friend Mrs. Martha Marin for her concern for my digestive tract in the wake of my ill-advised experiment involving the high-speed collision between literally billions of lethal microbes* and the rapidly aging meat and pasta dish formerly known as lasagna.

I'd also like to thank Ms. Johanssen for allegedly stopping by in the comments section and giving me virtual succor, which is more than I had a right to expect, after my insinuating comments, however well-intended they may have been.

I could fill valuable blog space trying to explain what I meant, but it's probably best summed up in a song, which, as it turns out, I have yet to write. No matter. Perhaps once it's written she'll sing backup on it, as she recently did for the Jesus and Mary Chain.

*Yes, I counted them, and yes, I named each one after a different character in the Diary of Samuel Pepys. It will come as no surprise to many of you that the little critter that laid me low is now rechristened as Sir Wm. Penn, Sr., after the lying, scheming worthless Navy Board member who failed to appreciate our Samuel's character, the doddering old slopgobbler.