Will's Unfocused and Meandering Post for Thursday

Good morning, Stroock's Books supplicants. We still have some residual soreness in our knee and foot, probably because we've hit the gym two of the last three days. We are annoyed. 

Some heavy and blessed rain yesterday. The skies should be clear today and the temps in the high 40s....na. It's been less than two weeks since our last Arturo Fuente. But still....we said no! Alcohol and tobacco don't seem like a good idea when we already feel kind of icky. 

A belated happy Ash Wednesday to followers of Popery and practitioners of Priestcraft across the globe.  

We dunno, what else we got?...bla-bla Gaza, bla-bla negotiations....We're already sick of thinking about Trump's congressional address. 

Trade war! We saw a video in which a Canadian liquor store owner was removing American booze from his shelves, you know, that he already imported. Must have been Newfies, right?* In retaliation we're going to stop watching Letterkenny. Pitter-patter, let's get at her. Also hockey. Heh, in the back of our liquor cabinet we have an unopened bottle of Crown Royal that someone gave us for our birthday....25 years ago. 

Book sales are not great lately. We can't unconvince ourselves that advertising in magazines or online is a big waste of money. If plugging our books with posts on Substack ain't working, why would plunking down a couple of hundred (American) on a 1/4 page magazine ad work?

DOGE report: A lackadaisical* and generally unfocused day, yesterday. But we read through a lot, wrote a little, and advanced the plot of World War 1990: Thatcher's War a bit. Now what the hell would make a bunch of Protestant shotgun permit men (IYKYK) walk across the Craigavon Bridge to challenge the Irish Rangers? Hatred? Hubris?

Our biggest problem right now is the stakes. This is a World War 1990 novel. Why are we putzing around the streets and alleys of Derry [Londonderry, Ed]. Shut up, Ed. You're from Liverpool. On the + side we always talk about differentiation. The Battle of Derry certainly differentiates Thatcher's War from say, The Weser. We don't want everything to be 'Boom goes the tank' as one author who has sold a whole lot less than us has derided.  

We read through yet another War Night story. Three more to go. 

*We told Mrs. Stroock this and she smirked.