Mrs. Stroock is in sports nirvana with her Penn State Nittany Lions on the telly at noon, and her Philadelphia Phillies playing a professional baseball match against the Mets of New York at 4 PM. She didn't want any part of the Mets, and blames us for tempting the baseball gods when we confidently told her, 'Pete Alonso hasn't gotten a big hit all year.' Foreign reader(s), the gods of baseball are moody and temperamental you know, like a woman. Never, ever make them angry.
In between the womenfolk are threatening to go shoe shopping. We'll be hitting the gym for the manliest of manly weightlifting sessions.
Macron to Bibi: don't strike Iran's nuclear sites.
Bibi to Macron: Go fuck yourself.
We're hearing from sources that Israel will strike Iran within 36 hours. Come on, Bibi. If you have to shoot, shoot. Don't talk.
By the way the Israelis are calling for civilian evacuations from central Gaza. This is the last remaining Hamas stronghold and pretty obviously the location of Sinwar and the hostage.
The Things.
We are scrambling to complete an 8,000 word short story submission, on spec if one can believe it, by next Sunday. Which is why we didn't get to this post till the afternoon. We are on track. Look at us getting all technical and stuff with 1MCs and bow planes. This story is turning into a discourse on Judaism in the Western Pacific. Ask Will for a story during the High Holy Days, get a Jewy story from Will.
We did some good work on Morning Rory. Slowly the story comes together and begins to make sense. The key is details, timing, payoff. This story is a delicate kabuki [What on earth are you talking about, knobhead-Ed].
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