A good friggin and frigid morning to Stroock's Books reader(s) who are hopefully in warmer climes. As we write this the temperature here in northern New Jersey is 5 degrees [You're not going to do your Euro-Fahrenheit joke again are you?-Ed]. No. Can you even read Fahrenheit numbers? [Of course not. And God save the King].
One could say that these horrible temperatures, the frozen wasteland outside and general January blase are getting to us.
Plague house status lifted. All daughters at school.
The new washer and dryer are installed. We're worrying ourselves learning the settings and getting these infernal modern machines with their gizmos and gadgets to function exactly the way we want them to function.
Layoffs are coming to CNN, they say. Hundreds of them. Good. Their pain is our joy. If we saw Dana Bash drowning...We're pretty sure we'd thrown them a rescue buoy. We were a lifeguard, after all [Swimming pool lifeguard-Ed]. We wouldn't actually get wet, but we're pretty sure we'd toss Dana Bash a rescue buoy, the cunt.
Okay...We sent out several chapters of War Night. The beta reader(s) liked what they read. Maybe we should stop worrying and get on with things.
For World War 1990: Thatcher's War, we've been reading up on the Right Reverend Ian Paisley, Protestant Loyalist leader and anti-Catholic advocate. Dam the Church and its popery, he might say. Certainly an impressive fellow, Revered Paisley was. We've discussed Paisley with our man on the ground in Ireland. 'Is Paisley in hell?' we asked. 'Oh, most definitely,' our man on the ground in Ireland replied. 'Most definitely.' There followed a string of invective.
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