David Dubrow

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Top Ten Books of 2021

December 20, 2021 by David Dubrow Leave a Comment

When you decide that you’re going to write books, no matter what kind, the decision irrevocably changes how you read. Writers read for pleasure like everyone else, but they also analyze what they read, determining what works from what doesn’t and why.

I do that, at least.

The best fiction makes you forget that you’re in the act of reading; the best non-fiction turns you into an engaged student (or activist).

What follows is a list of which books made the greatest impression on me over the last twelve months. Lists like this tend to be quite personal. I’ll leave it up to the reader to suss out what makes me tick. I already know.

—

10. The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu. The first in a sci-fi trilogy, it’s a taut, imaginative trip into near-future technology, extraterrestrial intelligence, and recent Chinese history, viewed through a purely materialistic lens. There’s nothing spiritual or aspirational about it, making it the Hugo-winning apotheosis of 21st century science fiction, which tends to explore nihilism over grace. Books two and three (The Dark Forest and Death’s End, respectively) got progressively less interesting, and the physics, as it advanced, became more like magic than science (A.C. Clarke, call your agent). If you read Three-Body, you’ll have to read the other two. You should read Three-Body anyway.

9. Grendel by John Gardner. The story of Beowulf as told by the monster, it’s a novel to be both enjoyed and admired. Clever, funny, gory, literary, and thoughtful, you only need to read the first page to understand why it’s a classic piece of literature. Gardner was a brilliant writer who died way too soon.

8. Wilderness of Mirrors by David C Martin. The non-fiction story of two men, William King Harvey and James Jesus Angleton, who worked for the CIA; Harvey was instrumental in exposing Soviet spy Kim Philby (who was in England’s MI-6), and Angleton had known Philby for years without suspecting a thing. Both Harvey and Angleton were complete loons in their own way, and if you ever thought that America’s clandestine intelligence service was anything other than accidentally competent, this book will disabuse you of that notion.

7. Couples by John Updike. I first read this novel in the mid-1990s, after finishing Updike’s Rabbit tetralogy, so I thought I would give it another spin. The themes of love, infidelity, and yearning remain relevant decades after the book was written. His graphic depictions of sex (especially in the 1960s) and frank discussions of intimacy are likewise shocking; Updike does not leave anything unsaid (one critic once said of him, “Did this guy ever have a thought he didn’t put on paper?”). I take it that the novel is at least a little bit autobiographical; I’m just glad I wasn’t Updike’s neighbor back then. This is still my favorite book of his.

6. Neighbors by Thomas Berger. Another novel of suburbia (after Updike’s Couples). Earl Kreese, a staid, boring, regular guy finds himself dealing with a pair of crazies who have just moved in next door. The absurdity in this novel borders on the surreal, but it’s hysterically funny for both the new neighbors’ antics and Earl’s reaction to them. Among many other excellent novels, Berger wrote Little Big Man.

5. Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. This was my first Murakami novel, and remains my favorite. Bizarre, filled with magical realism, ghost sex, and questions of identity and grief, it keeps you interested, even throughout the frequent descriptions of the protagonist’s mundane doings when not encountering weird phenomena. Since Kafka I’ve read several other Murakami books, which range from the tedious (1Q84) to the fascinating (A Wild Sheep Chase). Murakami is a writer who most people either love or don’t. I liked a good bit of what I’ve read, and didn’t like other bits.

4. Ordinary Men by Christopher R. Browning. If you’ve ever wondered how average Germans could murder so many Jewish men, women, and children in Poland during WWII, this is your book. A nonfiction work of horror, once you read it you’ll never forget it. I disagree with the writer’s conclusions, which take at least some of the individual responsibility away from the murderers, but this is still a vital text. Graphic and brutal.

3. H.P. Lovecraft: Against the World, Against Life by Michel Houellebecq. I’ve been an avid reader of Lovecraft and his associates since my teenage years, and Houellebecq’s analysis of the man and his mythos puts them in a new light, making them shine again. What an amazing book. I also enjoyed Houellebecq’s novels Serotonin and Submission in 2021, and highly recommend them.

2. The Obesity Code by Dr. Jason Fung. A guide to intermittent fasting: why it works and how you can make it work for you. Fasting has helped me immensely since I started it (I read Fung’s book in one night and began fasting that next morning). I look and feel better every day. Life-changing.

1. The Complete Stories by Flannery O’Connor. I couldn’t stand O’Connor’s novels Wise Blood and The Violent Bear It Away, but as a short story writer there was no one better in American literature. She shocks, she elevates, she hits you in the gut, sometimes in the same story. It’s an anthology I can’t wait to read again. The best book I read in 2021, and several of the previous years, also. Absolutely brilliant.

—

I’m interested to see what 2022’s top ten are going to be. 2021 will be hard to beat!

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A Few Thoughts About the Business of Writing

October 5, 2020 by David Dubrow Leave a Comment

Selling books is nothing like you expect it to be. This is not to say that it’s harder than other vocations, though it is difficult. It’s that in the world of 21st century publishing, you have to work at things that you became a writer to avoid: chiefly, sales and marketing. Nobody who writes anything except books on salesmanship says, I spent hundreds of hours writing and editing and polishing and sweating and bleeding over this book; I can’t wait to get out there and grind, day after day, trying to sell it.

Most of us think that sales and marketing mean posting about your book on social media. Nothing could be further from the truth. Facebook and Twitter do not sell books. Even if you buy ads. Social media helps drive traffic to free content, but it does not sell your book. Asking your friends and family to spread your Amazon product link doesn’t sell books, either, even if you’ve got a big family. Email bookselling services like BookBub and Ereader News Today are costly to use, and you’re lucky if you sell enough through them to make it worth the expense. There’s definitely a helpful ego boost when you’re successful using them (however you measure success), so they’re not to be entirely despised. Psychic income means a lot when you spend so much time alone with your imaginary friends. Just know what you’re getting into.

There are no guaranteed sales methods: there are only gambits that may work for you. If you’ve got a good cover, good advertising copy, and a good concept, those help. Except when they don’t. Writing more books helps. Sometimes. Getting more successful writers to blurb your book might help. The amount of luck involved is more a factor than anyone wants to admit. Everyone in the Western world is writing and publishing books through Amazon. With all that competition, how do you succeed? How do you turn an expensive hobby into a money-making venture?

The good news is that you don’t have to write well to make a profit. Many terrible books sell. So quality (or lack of it) is no barrier to success. It does help to have a great cover. Readers know the difference between a great cover, a good cover, and a mediocre cover. The overwhelming majority of book covers are mediocre at best, even the ones you paid good money for. Even the ones I paid good money for. People do judge a book by its cover. When we had a good quarter, the CFO of the publisher I worked for would cynically joke, “Good job, art department.” It used to bother me. It doesn’t anymore. Readers are more likely to buy a book with a great cover and unlikely to buy a book with a mediocre cover. Player/game: you know which one to hate.

So we know what doesn’t work, we know what might work, and we know what helps. If you’re going to spend money on your book, focus first on cover (don’t do it yourself). Then advertising copy (don’t do it yourself). Then genre/concept/story (that’s all on you). Everything else is so far outside the bounds of consideration that it’s not worth thinking about, including editing. Oh, you should have the book professionally proofread and laid out, but nobody notices these things unless they’re poorly done. And if readers really like the book, they’ll ignore them.

It’s nice to be part of writing groups, because they help motivate you to keep writing. If you’re writing for the ego boost, join some groups and they’ll Retweet your Amazon link. Dopamine’s a good drug. Some of your fellow writers will give you writing tips. Even personalized writing tips. If you’re smart, you’ll ignore these tips, unless they’re offered by writers who are as successful as you want to be. Don’t take advice from people who haven’t succeeded. If they knew what they were talking about, they’d be doing it already. Including me.

Most writers don’t write well. They don’t read good books themselves, they don’t model success properly, and/or they just can’t produce anything but leaden, lifeless prose. This probably includes you. And me. It doesn’t matter: readers can’t tell the difference between good and bad writing. Look at the Amazon bestseller list in any genre for proof. There’s nothing wrong with that: people like what they like. Separating book sales from book quality is something few writers want to do, emotionally speaking. If it sells, it’s automatically good, right? Don’t burst the bubble.

Finally, don’t do what you see everyone else doing, particularly if they’re not terribly successful doing it. Giveaways, $.99 sales, bundling your book with like books, and review trades do not bring in respectable money. If you define success as selling three books a month instead of one, go for it. If your definition of success is more ambitious, save your money to buy that great cover. Hire a great copywriter. And acquire your comfort substance of choice if these things don’t work out. Paying a utility bill or monthly mortgage with book royalties is real money, and it’s why I don’t badmouth writers who can do it, even if their books are unreadable.

You have to be lucky. You have to write more books. You have to keep after it.

Otherwise, take your boring, poorly-written trash off the digital shelves and void the field for serious writers. You’re the horse crap that obscures the occasional pony.

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Armageddon: Know Your Drug Dealer

November 22, 2019 by David Dubrow Leave a Comment

(You are looking at my Chirper feed, aren’t you? It’s like Twitter, but so much better!)

I included stigmata in my Armageddon trilogy because I figured that if you were going to describe a Biblical apocalypse, with demonic possession, angelic visitations, and holy relics, you should also throw in associated supernatural/Judeo-Christian phenomena, like people afflicted with the Wounds of Christ. For storytelling purposes, it wasn’t enough for those with stigmata to just bleed: the agonies they felt also gave them psychic abilities like prognostication and knowing when a holy relic or demonically-possessed person was nearby. The Wounds always hurt, but the pain increased in proximity to the supernatural.

Once I got that squared away, I had to decide who to give these Wounds to. I wanted those afflicted to be a kind of living holy relic, highly sought-after by the forces of both Hell and Heaven. Some religious people would get the stigmata, certainly. But I also wanted to inflict stigmata on other people: ones you might consider undeserving. Unlikely. Non-believers.

To make things interesting, I decided to have my stigmata-afflicted character be a drug dealer, and I named him Ozzie. From the outset, I wanted Ozzie to go from a bad person to a less-bad person. He would become a hero, of sorts, and a believer in Christ through sheer pragmatism. The third book in the trilogy is called The Holy Warrior and the Last Angel for a reason: Ozzie becomes the titular Holy Warrior. The least likely holy warrior you could imagine. A murderer and thief, a peddler of drugs, a gang member who would kill you for looking at him the wrong way, or even the right way. A cruel man who never smiled, not once.

His transformation throughout the novels is something to be read rather than described. But in creating Ozzie, I had to work out who he was. You could just hang a label on someone and call it a day: he’s a killer. A gangbanger. Whatever. But it doesn’t invite you to look deeper, and as I needed Ozzie to be an important character in whose head you’d be staying from time to time, I had to work out his details and background.

Okay, so he’s a drug dealer. What does that mean? Where does he deal drugs? How does he get them? What does a drug deal look like, exactly? It’s not like you go to the mall and pick up crystal meth at a kiosk. And if he’s in a gang, what kind of gang? How is the gang organized? What’s his role in the hierarchy?

I never bought drugs outside of a pharmacy, so I had no personal experience to draw from. So I had to do research. As this is a fictional character who happens to be in a fictional gang, I drew the vast majority of my cues from fiction: books and movies. New Jack City. Training Day. American Gangster. Blood in, Blood Out. Colors. I pored over news articles and interviews of drug dealers in and out of prison. Over time I got a vague picture, but the details eluded me: I couldn’t just borrow characters and situations from other people’s work.

So I had to make it up. I created a New York City drug gang, from the boss of the city to individual territories within certain boroughs. The territory bosses had free rein within their turf, but had to send their monthly cut to the borough boss. Independence with limits. Once I had the hierarchy, I could plug in various characters, who then had their roles to play, including Ozzie.

Some readers told me that they found the gang stuff to be pretty realistic, but I didn’t tell them that I made it up myself, according to how I’d run an illegal drug operation. In the end, it worked: it provided the necessary framework for both character motivations and story, and how things turn out for Ozzie was dependent on how he started out as a territory boss in Brooklyn, New York. Ozzie, being a cunning sort, used his clairvoyance and precognition to great personal advantage until…well, you’ll just have to read about what happened in The Blessed Man and the Witch.

And if writing doesn’t work out, I may have career options in the field of extralegal intoxicant distribution. We’ll see how it goes.

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Let’s Talk Cinder

April 10, 2018 by David Dubrow Leave a Comment

The Cinder Workshop is accepting applications for 2018!

Cinder is the new name for the Calliope Workshop, hosted by Taliesin Nexus in Los Angeles, California. I wrote about my experience at the workshop here. It was, in a word, transformative.

In addition to lectures on the nuts and bolts of writing like point of view, there’ll be mentoring sessions focusing on your work and talks by industry experts on self-publishing vs. trad-pub, writers and social media, the all-important Amazon algorithm, and more.

If themes like individual liberty, freedom of speech, and freedom of conscience are important to you and your writing, the Cinder Workshop is the place you want to be.

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Photos of the Calliope Workshop

November 8, 2017 by David Dubrow Leave a Comment

Not long ago I wrote about my experience as a mentor for the 2017 Calliope Workshop, sponsored by Taliesin Nexus in Los Angeles, California. If you’ve got a passion for both liberty and writing, I urge you to check out the Taliesin Nexus website, particularly the section on the Calliope Workshop.

The terrific people at Taliesin Nexus were kind enough to photograph the event, and sent me some relevant pictures.

Here I am holding forth while David Angsten looks on, likely hoping I’ll shut up already.
Peter, one of my mentees (L); Yours Truly (C); David Angsten (R)
Yeah, I don’t know what I’m smiling at here, either.
If you look closely at the lower right you’ll see my zombie book on the same table as real books like Michael Walsh’s The Devil’s Pleasure Palace.

Thanks again to Taliesin Nexus for inviting me; it was an honor.

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Calliope, Irma, and Me

September 19, 2017 by David Dubrow 6 Comments

David Dubrow, Robert Bidinotto, David Angsten

A couple of months ago I received an invitation to mentor some novelists at the Calliope Workshop for Fiction and Nonfiction Authors, hosted at the offices of Taliesin Nexus in Los Angeles, California. Deeply honored, I accepted.

As the weeks flew by and I received manuscripts from the writers I would mentor, the specter of Hurricane Irma rose in the Caribbean, heading straight for my home state of Florida. Every day I checked the projected paths, spaghetti models, and weather forecasts, all of which said the same thing: Irma was coming, and if I attended the workshop, I would be leaving my wife and son to face the storm alone. Despite this, Mrs Dubrow, who is easily the most capable person I know, insisted I go.

So, heart in my mouth, I went.

We had been preparing for such a storm for years: our house is situated in a non-evacuation zone, which means that it’s the sort of place you want to evacuate to if there’s any risk of flooding. We had landscaped in such a way as to minimize the danger of trees crashing through the roof (trees on our property, anyway), and we had acquired plenty of water and food if everything went to pot. And, best of all, we live close to a hurricane shelter in case the gale drives our neighbors’ tree limbs through our windows. While it’s impossible to prep for every contingency, we were ready.

And yet, I worried.

As for the workshop, it was a transformative experience. There’s nothing like teaching others the fundamentals to keep you yourself learning, and in between mentoring sessions, a number of brilliant and successful writers gave panel discussions, like Adam Bellow, Robert Bidinotto, Ann Bridges, Nick Cole, Andrew Klavan, and Ken Lizzi. David Bernstein of Liberty Island led a discussion on marketing and sales. Michael Walsh was the keynote speaker.  Best of all, I met my friend David Angsten face to face at long last; David, another panelist, recommended me for this gig, and he’s one of those rare people you like more and more the better you know him. I was also privileged to meet Andrew Malcolm of Hot Air, as well as some other columnists whose material I had read and enjoyed over the years.

Irma hung over everything. In the layover between connecting flights to California, the airline canceled my flight home, days in advance. The hurricane was scheduled to hit the west coast of Florida late Sunday night, and all models projected it to rampage over my very neighborhood in its path along the state. I was helpless to do anything but worry and pray, like most Floridians, but I was the one who fled and left his family behind (a silly thought, but it’s one of the things that occupies one’s mind in anxious moments). Because I didn’t know when I might be able to get home again, I arranged to fly to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, figuring I’d stay with my older brother and his family until I could catch the next flight to Tampa. I spent Sunday night in an agony of worry until I heard from my wife, who told me that the electricity had gone out but everyone was fine.

Imagine my relief.

Once the storm drifted north, the airport opened again. The earliest flight I could get would take me halfway across the country to Dallas, Texas. Then, after a four-hour layover, from Dallas to Tampa. Not fun, but compared to what people in the Florida Keys and the Caribbean were going through, it was nothing. First-world problems. During that time, my wife and son checked into a hotel near the airport, because it’s next to impossible to live without air conditioning in Florida. My Dallas to Tampa flight was delayed four more hours, and I wasn’t reunited with my family until four o’clock in the morning that Friday.

Three days later (eight days after the storm blew out our power), electricity was restored to my house. We were among the last in the county to get power back. For us, the disaster was over.

As the things I learned, saw, and did in L.A. sort themselves into the various corners of my mind, I find myself overwhelmed by gratitude.

Thanks to God for sparing my family. Others weren’t so fortunate.

Thanks to the Calliope Workshop for putting such faith in me.

Thanks to David Angsten for recommending me for the job.

Thanks to my brother and his family, who took me in.

And last but definitely not least, thanks to Mrs Dubrow, who could’ve asked me to stay behind, but didn’t.

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"It began to drizzle rain and he turned on the windshield wipers; they made a great clatter like two idiots clapping in church." --Flannery O'Connor, Wise Blood

"Squop chicken? I never get enough to eat when I eat squop chicken. I told you that when we sat down. You gotta give me that. I told you when we sat down, I said frankly I said this is not my idea of a meal, squop chicken. I'm a big eater." --John O'Hara, BUtterfield 8

I saw the 1977 cartoon The Hobbit as a little boy, and it kindled a love of heroic fantasy that has never left me. Orson Bean's passing is terrible news. Rest in peace.

Obviously, these young people have been poorly served by their parents, but the honest search for practical information should be lauded, not contemned.

You shouldn't look at or use Twitter, and this story is another perfect example. There's so much that's wrong here that it would take a battalion of clergy, philosophers, and psychologists to fully map it out, let alone treat the issue.

This is the advertising copy for Ilana Glazer's stand-up comedy special The Planet Is Burning: "Ilana Glazer‘s debut standup special is trés lol, and turns out - she one funny b. Check out Ilana’s thoughts on partnership, being a successful stoner adult, Nazis, Diva Cups, and more. Hold on to your nuts cuz this hour proves how useless the patriarchy is. For Christ’s sake, The Planet Is Burning, and it’s time a short, queer, hairy New York Jew screams it in your face!" This is written to make you want to watch it.

In the midst of reading books about modern farming, the 6,000 year history of bread, and ancient grains, I found this just-published piece by farmer and scholar Victor Davis Hanson: Remembering the Farming Way.

"I then confront the decreasing power of the movement in order to demonstrate the need for increased theorizations of the reflexive capacities of institutionalized power structures to sustain oppositional education social movements." Yes. Of course.

You should definitely check out Atomickristin's sci-fi story Women in Fridges.

As it turns out, there may yet be some kind of personal cost for attempting to incite a social media mob into violence against a teenage boy you don't know, but decided to hate anyway because reasons.

One of the biggest problems with internet content is that the vast majority of sites don't pay their writers, and it shows in the lack of quality writing. It's hard to find decent writers, and harder to scrape up the cash to pay them. This piece is a shining example of the problem of free content: it's worth what you pay for.

If you're interested in understanding our current cultural insanity, the best primer available is Douglas Murray's The Madness of Crowds. Thoughtful, entertaining, and incisive.

More laws are dumb. More law enforcement is dumb. The only proper response to violence is overwhelming violence. End the assault. There's a rising anti-semitism problem in New York because Jews who act like victims are being victimized by predators. None of these attacks are random. Carry a weapon and practice deploying it under duress. Be alert and aware. I don't understand why the women Tiffany Harris attacked didn't flatten her face into the pavement, but once word gets around that the consequences of violence are grave, the violence will lessen.

When are you assholes going to understand that this stupidity doesn't work any longer? Nobody gives much of a damn if you think we're sexist because we don't want to see a movie you think we should see. It only makes us dislike you that much more, and you started out being an unlikable asshole. Find a new way to shame normal people.

The movie Terms of Endearment still holds up more than 35 years later, and if you're looking for a tearjerker, this is your jam. One element that didn't get a lot of mention is, at the end, when Flap, with a shrug, decides that his mother-in-law will become the mother of his children once Emma dies. He abandons them, and nothing is made of it. This always troubled me.

You need to read this story the next time you feel the urge to complain. And if you need a shot of admiration for another family's courage, check this out.

Progressive political activist and children's author J.K. Rowling finds herself on the wrong side of a mob she helped to create. The Woke Sandwich she's been trying to force-feed others since she earned enough f-you money doesn't taste as good as it looks when she's obliged to take a bite.

I need you to check out The Kohen Chronicles and pray for this family. Their 5-year-old son has cancer.

Currently, the movie Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker stands at 55% at Rotten Tomatoes. Don't forget that these are the same reviewers who not only adored the absolutely execrable The Last Jedi, but insisted that you were a MAGA hat-wearing incel white supremacist manbaby for not loving The Last Jedi. So either The Rise of Skywalker is an objectively bad film, or it simply wasn't woke enough to earn plaudits from our movie-reviewing moral and intellectual betters.

It's easy to hate the older pop bands like Genesis for their popularity, but they were capable of genius, and it shows in No Son of Mine.

If you want to know which identity group has more clout, read this story of the Zola ads on the Hallmark Channel.

Rest in peace, René Auberjonois. I remember you from Benson as a kid. As an adult, I remember you as Janos Audron in the Legacy of Kain video game series. You made every role you were in a classic.

Elf on a Shelf Follies, Part 2:
8-year-old: I wrote the elf a note! I hope he writes back.
Me: What did you write?
8yo: I asked if he has any friends.
Me: What if he says it's none of your business?
8yo: *eyes grow dark and glittering* Then I'll...touch him.
Me: Ah. Mutually assured destruction, then.

Elf on a Shelf Follies, Part 1: My 8-year-old got an Elf on the Shelf the other day. The book it came with tells a story in doggerel about this elf's purpose, which is to spy on the kid and report his doings to Santa Claus, who would then determine if the kid is worthy for Christmas presents this year. The book also said for the kid not to touch him, or the magic would fade, and for the family to give the elf a name. I wanted to name him Stasi. I was outvoted.

Actor Billy Dee Williams calls himself a man or a woman, depending on whim; his character Lando Calrissian is "pansexual," and his writer implies that he'd become intimate with anyone or anything, including, one presumes, a dog, a toaster, or a baby. J.J. Abrams is very concerned about LGBTQ representation in the Star Wars universe. This is Hollywood. This is Star Wars. This is what's important to the people in charge of your cinematic entertainment. Are you not entertained?

The funniest thing on the internet today is the number of people angry over an exercise bike commercial. Public outrage is always funny. Always.

One of the biggest mistakes the United States has ever made since WWII was recruiting for clandestine and federal law enforcement organizations at Ivy League schools. The best talent pools were/are available from local law enforcement and military veterans, with their maturity and, most importantly, field experience. We've been reaping the costs of these terrible decisions for decades, culminating in a hopelessly politicized, sub-competent FBI and CIA.

Watching Fauda seasons 1 and 2 again in preparation for season 3 to be broadcast, one hopes, in early 2020. Here's my back-of-the-matchbook review of season 2.

Every day I try to be grateful for what I have, even in the face of the petty frustrations and troubles that pockmark a day spent outside of one's living room, binge-watching Netflix. We live lives of ease in 21st century America, making it enormously difficult to do anything but take one's countless blessings for granted. Holidays like the just-passed Thanksgiving are helpful reminders. There's a reason why people call the attitude of a thankful heart practicing gratitude, not just feeling grateful. You have to practice it. You have to remind yourself of what you have. It's the work of a lifetime.

Held Back: A Recent Conversation.
8-year-old: Oh, and Jamie was there, too. He was in my first grade class two years ago.
Me: Wasn't he held back a year?
8yo: Yeah. It's because he kept going to the bathroom with the door open.
Me: No way!
8yo: And girls saw.
Me: That's not right. They're not going to hold a kid back a whole year over that.
8yo: Well, that's what he told me.
Me: Sounds fishy.
8yo: I believe him.
~fin~

It's right and good to push a raft of politically correct social justice policies on everything else under the sun, but when social justice invades Hollywood, that's just a bridge too far, says Terry Gilliam. Sorry, Terry: you helped make this sandwich. EAT IT.

Rob Henderson's piece on luxury beliefs will have you nodding your head over and over again...unless you subscribe to these luxury beliefs, in which case you'll get mad.

I've made the Saturday bread from Flour Water Salt Yeast so often that I've memorized the recipe. It never disappoints. Never. The same recipe works well for pizza, too.

Liberty doesn't mean the freedom to do anything you want. The true definition of liberty is the ability to choose the good. Anything less is libertinism.

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