You Can't Write ... On

For A Time After My Divorce Everything Began To Seem Profoundly Ironic To Me. I Found Myself Thinking Of Other Peoples' Worries As Sources Of Amusement And Private Derision Which I Thought About At Night To Make Myself Feel Better.

Theres A Lot To Be Said For Doing What Youre Not Supposed To Do, And The Rewards Of Doing What Youre Supposed To Do Are More Subtle And Take Longer To Become Apparent, Which Maybe Makes It Less Attractive. But Your Life Is The Blueprint You Make After The Building Is Built.

Paul Ryan's Just A Really, Deeply Evil Little Creature. But He's Not Little; He's Actually Quite Tall, I'm Sorry To See. I'm Always Sorry When Really Bad Guys Are Tall.

Paul Ryan, He Is The Real Evil Genius Of The Republican Party. He With His Little Hateful Widow's Peak And His Smirky, Snarly, Simpering Non-entity Self, That's Who I Detest. Trump's Just A Moron, But Ryan Is Ugly And Evil.

And I Think That In Myself (and Perhaps Evident In What I Write) Fear Of Loss And The Corresponding Instinct To Protect Myself Against Loss Are Potent Forces.