nobody here but us chickens

The Trespasser

Once again, I have only the Kindle version, so I printed the cover for your entertainment purposes.

Let me preface this by the usual – there are possible spoilerish statements in what follows. Read on at your own peril!

Let me also preface this by expressing my love for Tana French. I really, truly, love Tana French. I love how each of her installments progresses organically from the last without being a technical sequel. I love that they’re gritty without being cliche. I love that they’re set in Dublin and the surrounding area – a stop on my someday maybe list. I love that her characters are all deeply flawed human beings but flawed in entirely believable and realistic ways.

I do not love this book.

I really, really do not love this book. I did not love this protagonist when she was introduced in the last book. I love her even less now that she’s the main character. She is entirely cliche. I’m something like just under halfway through the book and I swear to God, I’m having chest pains from holding my breath waiting for the massive chip on her shoulder to tip her down a flight of stairs.

Why do so many writers fall into the trap of “If I’m going to portray a strong female lead she has to be a ball busting bad ass with no room for any kind of softness because soft = weak and GOD FORBID A WOMAN SHOULD EVER APPEAR WEAK” even though softness does not at all imply weakness and why is it OK to portray men as soft but not women and also, why do we have to hate on men and emasculate them at all?

What I’m saying, in all my run-on glory, is that French has suddenly fallen into that (to me) tired ass trope of you can only depict women two ways – (1) I will kick your ass and maybe share some steamy sex with you, but I will not be NICE because NICE IS WEAK; or (2) I’m a weak pathetic milquetoast who needs either a good strong man to lift me up or a (see no. 1) STRONG female to show me the light and the error of my weak pathetic ways.

Plus. Also. Backstory of some sort of trauma involving a man – daddy left. Fiance died tragically. Blah blah boring ass blah.


I just don’t remember French being so obvious about it in the past. I mean every book comes with its share of tropes and cliches and what have yous. That’s pretty standard everywhere. But it’s like she got to The Trespasser and just suddenly didn’t give a fuck any more.

And the story line itself. I feel like the first 40something% because page numbers are not reliable in e-versions which is kind of annoying was just a giant red herring waste of time. And yet another massive cliche in itself. And I’m honestly questioning if I even have the energy to plow through the rest of this thing.

I mean I probably will. If for no other reason than to find out which character will be featuring in her next Dublin Murder Squad installment, which, if there is a God and He is in His Heaven, will be back up to the standard I’ve come to expect from someone who is normally a really frigging outstanding novelist.

I guess there is one thing I love about this book. The cover. That’s a great cover. But I still haven’t even figured out what the hell the title means. Did I mention I’m almost halfway through the book? Usually a girl can discern the meaning of a title by now. But also? Why is French’s name bigger than the book title? That just seems like “Hey, we already know this is not Tana’s best work, so buy it because it’s a Tana French and let’s just not get into the rest of it, mmmkay?”

Have you read it? Tell me I’m not wrong. Tell me it’s as bad as I think it is. And then tell me the next book will be better. Sooooooo much better. Because if it’s not, I really think Tana and I just need to start seeing other people.


Random Wednesday

“Don’t vote for the person who tells you you deserve something. Just don’t do it if it’s something other than life, liberty, or the pursuit of possible happiness. If everyone is telling you you deserve something, vote for the one who is promising you the least. Be suspicious of the man or woman who tells you you deserve everything. Because you don’t.” ~ Mike Rowe

Maybe it’s something else.

I’m just not sure I can do this anymore.

“Libs are always hating on Chick-fil-A, but Chick-fil-A has never arrested a black man for not buying a sandwich.”

I don’t think anyone’s reading it anyway.

She just seems to be deeply out of touch with how “regular” people live. I mean she might as well be Gwyneth Paltrow.


Why is that being treated as a complaint?? That’s fucking stupid.

I need some speakers.

Sorry. Right back to where I was before. I just don’t feel like I belong and you’re doing nothing to change that with your actions and no amount of telling myself I do belong is making that true…

This just in: jentober is not actually heartless.

I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions.

Ooooh these are pretty! I’d obviously keep them up year round.

Let me just tell you how sick I am of hearing about the fucking roads, shall I?

Too many Goddamn cooks. Send your own fucking emails. I’ve had it with this whole endeavor.

I need some kind of attitude adjustment. Send help.

It’s all fades and brioche, fades and brioche, fades and brioche, all the time. M.E.H. No thanks.

Also I can’t wear mohair, so let’s nip that rising trend in the bud, shall we?

No, really. I need help please.

Stop sending me emails telling me to stop sending you my photos that I am not sending you. Spammy McJerkface.

“When I saw the budget they were offering, I said, ‘Fuck this.’” Yeah, that’s how I feel about a lot of shit too, David Lynch.

But seriously, how did I get on Vulture’s mailing list?

No one told me The Posies were going to be at Bell’s tomorrow.

No one tells me anything.

everything is everything

“How are you??” “I’m on Xanax.”

Wow, I was just starting to get into it and then WHAM – a dig at homeschoolers AND Ayn Rand in the space of five minutes. Sad.

Just maybe think that blue lipstick through a little more thoroughly. That’s all I’m saying.

There is absolutely no legitimate reason that this should be taking this long. None.

I wish I had a cookie.

The problem with having a protein shake for lunch is that now I’m freezing my ass off.

Are you serious? Because that is literally what I asked you to do two months ago. WTF does your office even exist for?

I’m not sure I’m loving this new phone. I definitely do not love that the rear facing camera flips the image. My old phone did not flip the image and I loved that.

Is anyone enjoying my book series?

Dammit. Forgot to bring that other blue with me.

All this standing is not working for me today.

This is the grumpiest Random in a while. Damn.

Oh good. It’s the “walk back and forth and in and out of the office in flip flops” portion of the day. I was so afraid I’d missed it.

This is fascinating.

People are being whispery and bitchy and weird again. I hate it when that starts cycling up. Makes for very unpleasant vibes.

Here’s a cool thing you could do: Donate to my cause of bringing Gaiman to campus.

Huh. If I’m going to be the only one left in the office for the rest of the day, it might have been helpful of people to LET ME KNOW.

I give up.


The Goldfinch

I couldn’t hold up the book, because I only have the Kindle version, so I printed out the cover to share my disdain.

WARNING – This post is a big fat spoiler, so if you haven’t read it and plan to, don’t read on.

I’ve thrown this image of the painting in here to block the spoilers for you (you’re welcome) and also to say – LOOK. The painting itself isn’t even particularly compelling. It’s like they made the very cover of the book a big fat foreshadowy warning.

I’m throwing this on the pyre since I mentioned it in my introduction. The difference between this and other titles in my series is that I know precisely why I can’t finish this book – I fucking loathe it.

Sorry (not sorry at all), perhaps that’s a bit harsh. Nevertheless it is true. This book has no redeeming qualities. None. And it just keeps going on and on and on and on and on. I mean Jesus. How long must you subject the reader to the seemingly endless poor life choices of your utterly despicable protagonist?

I take it back. The dog. The dog was the one decent thing about this black hole of human waste.

Literally every single bad thing that happened to this jackass-not-a-PRO-tagonist (whose name has completely escaped me now) was one hundred percent his own damn fault. Everything could have been avoided had he simply not been a selfish asshole for five minutes. But no, he made bad choice after bad choice. He lied, he stole, he consumed untold quantities of illicit substances – he was a giant dick.

I don’t care how this book ends unless it’s in his untimely and well deserved death.

He could have redeemed himself at any point, too. That’s the truly irritating part. Like, dude. Just make one decent decision. Just tell the truth about one goddamn thing. Just give back the stupid painting. But no. Shove it back in your pillowcase or wherever the hell you’re keeping it today and keep panicking. Marry the sociopath. Forge more antiques. BE A DICK ALL THE TIME. Yeah, that’s totally the right path.

He’s not even an anti-hero. He’s just a villain all the way around. (What the hell is his name? … Theo. Thank you, Google.) I mean I love a good anti-hero. What red blooded American girl doesn’t love a good anti-hero?

And I’ll admit, I don’t have a lot of patience for addict stories. I’ve known an addict or five in my life, and I don’t have a lot of sympathy. Sorry (again, not sorry).

I guess that’s my whole problem with books like this. Or even reality. Everyone has a choice. Everyone has endless choices. Why are people always making the wrong ones? Shit. Now this has turned into a preachy homily on living a better life. Like I’m better than anybody else. I’ve made my share of bad choices. (I mean, let’s just not talk about the 90s, OK? Also that period around the 2008 election in which I finally threw off the shackles of pretending to be liberal and went a little overboard. Actually genuinely sorry about some of that vitriol, chickens.) I guess I just think if you’re going to write 700+ pages on some drug addled angst ridden selfish piece of shit, there better be a healthy dose of redemption thrown in. And if there is one thing this book is lacking, (and there isn’t just one thing, let’s be clear), it’s redemption.

Unless that happens at the end, which I’ll never know, because I am not finishing this book. I like myself too much for that.

I wish the world offered refunds on books you bought and now wholly regret. Is it true that it took Donna Tartt ten years to write this book? I can’t believe it isn’t taking every reader ten years to slog through it.

I’ve just this minute realized that two of the books I hate most in the world were Pulitzer contenders. This piece of trash won it for fiction, and Eggers was nominated for non-fiction. Who the hell makes these decisions??

Maybe I should file this one under a new category – “Books I Utterly Despise.”


Random Wednesday

… the collision of standard shipping.

I’d rather have donuts than muffins, though.

There was really no need for a response to that.

New phone. Most unexpected. I’ll have you someday, Pixel! Someday!!!

Too much caffeine, or not enough?

Serial Killer Jesus

My knee is not happy with you at all.

This is an interesting read.

I like straws. I have sensitive teeth.

Aww! Good on you, Country Time!

Yeah, that’s not much of a statement.

I made it through that and I’ll make it through this.

Why is that funny to you?

Well it’s not a murder house.

Dude’s eyebrows always look like that. They’re weird, and when the light is angled just right, they look even more bizarre. But they aren’t falling off.

Why would I give a shit what books Sarah Jessica Parker wants me to read?

Happens all the time.

It’s always butt cheeks and nipples with you.

That’s precisely the problem with these kids today. All the intense beards.


THIS is why God invented Xanax.

That’s pretty hilarious.

I don’t need another tote bag, but I do love that one.

Ha. A lingering sense of doubt.

But it’s not in my pocket.

Been trying to find a new scent. To no avail.

Makes me want a chicken sandwich.

Pretty sure I definitely do not need the LinkedIn app, thanks.

My enthusiasm for Paul Holes has waned, just a bit. I’m good with that.

Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy My Favorite Murder, but don’t you think it’s just the eensiest bit overrated?

Maybe I’ll just mix up my own scent. I’m in the mood for something with cardamom. I miss fall.

I’m not feeling especially enthusiastic about my lunch. Alas.

I don’t like the fingerprint pad in that location. It is counter intuitive.

It would have been just fine.


Who needs lunch, anyway, really?

Hey Amazon? I’m not a nurse. Why would you ever think I needed nurse related anything? Nothing in my purchase history could possibly have led you to believe that I needed a shot glass reading “nurses need shots too.”

The fire department was called for this? Seriously?

Why is she dressed like a prostitute?

This is a little ridiculous, people.

I especially like how you can’t see the price til checkout.

I feel a little bleah.

No, no, no, that’s the word.

What the hell is that about. Dude. You are awful.

There is just no escaping you, is there.

SOMETIMES it’s not a question.


I should give up soda again.

Should is the operative word. But will I? Who can say?

What’s that you say?


Random Wednesday

Slow and steady wins the

I forgot to get donuts for national donut day. I guess I suck. My waistline thanks me.

Took this Buzzfeed quiz and of all the famous graves in the world it could have given me, it picked one I’ve actually already been to: Edgar Allan Poe. Figures.

Sometimes I comment on a friend’s post on FB cos it seems like a conversation I’d like to join and eeeeeeeeveryone there just ignores me and then I feel like a loser idiot and delete it and leave. So yeah, I’d love to take part in your Outlander conversation, and I can tell you “Je suis prest” means, but I won’t. I’ll just keep myself to myself.

My next house, should it have paintable sides, and should I have a next house, should be Norwegian red, like my Grandma Ingeborg’s cabin, or that wonderful slate gray that the new house down the road is.

Man. I need to hook that DVD player back up so I can have a Buffy marathon. It’s been too long.

Aw man.

This is among the more vile things I have ever eaten.

Um. I need this skull. (No I don’t. I don’t need more stuff. I don’t.)

I need a road trip with my camera.

Man. Someone needs to make some way less depressing Kalamazoo postcards, like right now.

That all sounds revolting.

you know what musta

All I want is pizza.

I am afraid to comment on threads in Ravelry to correct someone because I don’t want them to be offended or think I’m being bitchy. But it’s frustrating, because that lady is wrong.

It’s like the Elizabeth Warren style family tree.

Well that was completely unnecessary.

I will wear Doc Martens until the day I die.

I got kind of busy and completely forgot it was Wednesday.

I feel like making chocolate chip scones.

I need to join the Pixel family. I’m pretty sure.

I stood too long yesterday. I paid the price.

OK, that dude is a piece of shit, but also? Just stay the fuck off Tinder.

More pieces of shit. What Persky did was almost as bad as the actual rape.

God I hate Sammy Hagar.

Wow, I sound like a lunatic. Awesome.

Really? Who’s gonna read that?

Jesus. How do I get on these mailing lists??

Sometimes when people share stories about their kids on social media I find myself going “Yeah, no. That never happened.” And then I wonder if people do the same thing to me.

Well. I like those kinds of concoctions.

I should get donuts tomorrow.

I definitely should not get donuts tomorrow.

Oh! I could get a Den Pop tomorrow. Haven’t had a Den Pop in ages.

My poor jaw.

woe unto


Random Wednesday

There are a lot of things I should have done with my life, but I do enjoy the weirdness of where I ended up.

Aside from the job anyway.

I want to go to Crime Con. Don’t judge me.

Gah. Summer makes me itchy.

Well, hello there.

I don’t know. I can be pretty bold.

I have thoughts on I’ll Be Gone in the Dark. I’ll probably share them.

It’s the 58th of April !

Jeeps gone. Yay! Now to get the John Deere fixed.

I find humus offensive.

Man. I want to be a Broadway knitter. For fun.

I wish this bracelet were just the tiniest bit smaller.

I don’t need

Look, I’m no stranger to vindictively correcting someone’s grammar, but familiarize yourself with the style being used before you make an ass out of yourself. I mean. This is just petty foolishness. And unintentionally hilarious.

I’d rather he not get squished, thanks.

Yeah, I’d rather be doing just about anything other than that.

Does this mean I can’t wear my chicken sweatshirt any more?

It’s because I’m cute, isn’t it? I’m totally OK with that.

But what if I’m actually the antagonist?

I just found a serial killer’s name on a sticky note in my desk drawer.

Oh wait, he’s not a serial killer. He’s just a cannibal.

I’m sorry. I just can’t deal with Gillian Anderson’s British accent. She should sound like she’s a Michigander.

At least her accent is more legit than Madonna’s I suppose.

I gotta stop using legit.

WHAT. New Dresden. NEW DRESDEN. New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden.

I’ve waited so loooooooooong.


I’m actually probably more excited about Butcher than I am at the prospect of getting Gaiman to campus. And only a little because I don’t think we’re going to get Gaiman to campus.

I think this is going to be short this week. I’m OK with that.

I laugh, but inside I’m crying.

I’m super excited about new Neko Case this week too. Man.


Yeah, I’ve totally been derailed. I just lost like two hours.


This might be my new favorite version of Sleep All Summer. Holy shit.

Well. At least it’s in place now.

Oh shit. Well they’re not going to do us any good in fucking SEATTLE.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand that is why I don’t want to use your pharmacy any more.

………………………………………………………………………….. but I get to meet Jim Butcher.

i want to shoot shoot shoot shoot the whole

Ever feel like

I’m probably not a very good friend. I try very hard to be a very good friend. But maybe I just suck.

Wow. Now that I’ve brought us all DOWN.

Can’t stop listening to this song.

Shit, I forgot.

This post sucks.

I was derailed by Harry Dresden.

Can’t I just sit near the water? Do I actually have to get in it?

There is very little on this Earth that is worse than a staff retreat.


Two cities I will never visit: Colorado Springs and Sacramento.

This J.D. Robb is pretty good. Seemed like she slumped a bit for a minute, but the last few have been really good.

It’s more than any of us deserves.

I do love video calling for Stormageddon. What a wonderful thing.

What even is that?

I need to finish winding that yarn tonight.

I don’t think it’s gonna rain after all. Sadness. Wow, Sunday’s gonna almost feel cold after this week.

10,000 miles isn’t gonna get me anywhere. Plus it’s Delta. They’re liable to kill me.

I need to be a millionaire. Billionaire. Gajillionaire. Debonair.


Books I Can’t Seem To Finish

(This is not a fair representation. Some of these I’ve read entirely. Some I simply have not gotten to. But Joe Pernice, I love you so, but I just never did finish that book.)

I meant to write this a week ago. I kept forgetting. Obviously I should do it now, with a million other things on my to do list.

I have a pile of books, chickens – some on the Kindle (app, cos I don’t actually own a Kindle), some real, solid, physical, paper books – that I have started, and just cannot seem to finish. I don’t know why. Well. That’s not entirely true. Some of them are just terrible books. I’m sure there are people out there who thought they were brilliant. Certainly there were editors and agents who read them and said “By God! THIS is a bestseller!” (The Goldfinch, anyone? Of course, they were right, but I still can’t get through that awful piece of trash.) But I just can’t see it. And chickens, life is too short to finish books you just can’t get into.

The last book I forced myself to see through to the end was A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and let me tell you, I will never read another word uttered by Dave Eggers again. By the time I turned the last page in that angst ridden pile of pulp I wanted to punch that smug, whiny, self righteous ego maniacal hipster jackass right in the neck. (Not that I would, I’m not advocating violence against self important critics’ darlings.) I will never suffer like that again, chickens!

(Zamyatin was a gift. I need to get off my ass with that one. Who doesn’t love a good Russian dystopian future, really?)

Unfortunately for me, there are plenty of other books that are perfectly worth the read, that I just cannot seem to stick with.

I’m becoming a … I don’t know … what’s a word for a girl who can’t stick around past the fourth date? I’m that. I can’t commit, try though I might.

And thus, here we are. I thought I’d do a series on these books – what I think of them, why I should give them another go – or not. Sort of like an unbook club. You should join me. I’ll even throw in a few I actually did finish and what I loved or hated about them (kinda like a real live book review! el oh el Although. Now that I thin about it. Maybe those should go in a different category. Cos duh). I do love reading. I’m not a monster.

(Politinerd. Straight up. I’ve read a fair amount of this stack, but a lot of it is in the “to read” category. Also, sorry for the tilted, not up to my usual quality photos. these were all shot sort of haphazardly on mah phone.)


Random Wednesday


Go tell it to somebody who cares, pal.

I just remembered Richard Grieco.

I don’t know. Sometimes free shit just gets old. Like thanks, but I’m actually really picky about my lip balm, you know?

This is why I don’t listen to podcasts. Well. One of the reasons.

Just because it works for Karen and Georgia doesn’t mean it works for you. Find your own voices. Please.

No. Tom Selleck is the only Magnum PI. Sorry, sugar.

Googley eyes are never not hilarious.

Your bookstore is entirely too pretentious for words.


The more I think about this game, the more I miss the low-tech life of my youth.

I would rather not say that out loud, thank you.

Look. Sometimes I just go look at how much something would cost. And I comment on it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to buy it.

Now seems like a really good time for Chuck to make an appearance. I mean WTF.

Yep. Still hate speaker phone.

I love that giant globe.

What’s with all the mohair everywhere all of a sudden?

I can’t wear mohair.


Why does my breath taste like mothballs?

Jesus, would you calm the fuck down with this shit? NONE of this is an emergency.

OMG I wasn’t gonna, but I think this day needs it.

If Apocalypse World Bobby dies in this world, what happens when he gets to heaven and meets this world’s Bobby?

Oh shit. Well, that solves that problem, doesn’t it?

I literally could not stop myself.

I’ve been saying literally a lot lately. I need to stop that. Literally right now.

That’s not a real thing. Cut it out.

Could someone tell Paul Holes to get an Instagram, cos I don’t really do Twitter anymore.

I’d just buy you a phone myself if I thought you’d respond to me trying to reach you any quicker there.

There was too much corn in that Mexican Casserole thingie, but aside from that, it was pretty tasty. For an unfrozen lunch.

That is quite possibly the most horrifying photo of me in existence and now that it’s out in the world I want to crawl in a hole and die.

ILU standing desk converter.

I haven’t been able to crack my back since I was pregnant with Stormageddon and I miss it.

everybody’s goin down

I might be dangerous.

I love animals too, but I’ll never refer to them as my children in any way.

Am I the worst mother in existence? Well, I’ve never locked my children in the closet, so … probably not.

I’ve almost completely lost interest in this thing at this point.

I have no interest in moving to Detroit, thanks.

Wow. Complaining about being successful. Your life is so hard.

Not at all sure how you came to that conclusion. But OK.

Look. Paul Holes is hot. That is not in dispute. But I cannot with that hashtag. It’s just weird.

I like aspects of Frank Lloyd Wright houses. But overall, it’s just not my thing.

They’re photographs, not talkies.

If I do it, I’m not telling you about it.

I’m in like Flynn.

But I don’t have a Maltese named Falcon.


Random Wednesday

You’re going to require a Master’s for that position and then make the pay the same as an admin assistant senior? Wow.

OMG just stop emailing me. Seriously.

It hurt my soul to do that. I just want you to know.


I think it’s hilarious that all the comments are “wash your hands!” and none of them are “stop biting your fucking nails.”

Because stop biting your fucking nails.

No one is going to give you a hundred dollars for your alarm clock. No one.

I’ll be flogged for saying I don’t like it. Flogged.

I don’t know. Kind of seems like an awfully high number of serial killers for one state.

I don’t like the way it looks like it’s just floating.

“Bass fishing, needlepoint, that’s a hobby. Collecting serial killer stats. That’s … that’s an illness.”

Please don’t make me cry today.

Their laughs are so squeaky and creaky.

Man. No one ever gets tired of the phrase “diversity and inclusion,” do they?

‘Cept me. I do. You know why? Cos it’s all talk. It’s all about race and ethnicity. No one gives a fuck about diversity of thought. It’s tiresome.


I won’t apologize. We’ve been through this.

And also read this. Because this is a very important thing to understand.

65,000 is probably too many texts. Just. Dial it back a little. Calm the fuck down.

As I sneezed into my elbow just now, I suddenly realized how that stupid ass dab move was invented. Someone sneezed responsibly on the dance floor and everyone thought it was a fancy new move.

Just seems like a completely haphazard, chaotic existence, and I simply do not see the appeal in that.

I just think that if you don’t actually understand how any of this works, you probably shouldn’t be trying to oversee it. At all.

That … sounds disgusting.

And here I thought I was the only one with an amusing First Communion story.

maybe maybe maybe

I can’t think of a single thing I want to do less right now.

Dude. It’s been way more than 15 minutes. WTH are you?

XM needs an Afghan Whigs channel.

I’m so sorry, but your new logo reminds me of Good Morning America. Not loving it.

Oh look, I started a new feature.

Course I went on about introductions, and now I realize it needs an introduction. So.

I did say there were exceptions …

I have a feeling I’m going to like the new Neko Case worlds better than the last one, which I honestly just did not care for (it breaks my heart to say).

They’re like happy little patriotic speckles.

What is this “newspaper” of which you speak?

i just can’t seem to get enough of


I think it might be “Switch to Only One Morning Cuppa Tea” season. Pretty sure.

Oh it’s that time of year when

I mean. You don’t have to be rude.

I have loads of unpopular opinions. I’m like the unpopular opinion poster girl.

I don’t know what goes on in your head. I can’t help your psychosis or neurosis or whateversis.

Ha. I totally forgot I set that goal. Guess I better step up my game.

Where is my mind.

Well, at least I can laugh at myself.

Oh maybe I should order some Sinharaja. Mix things up a little. That might be good. I like Sinharaja.

Is there anything about crows that isn’t awesome?

Also that mask and wig are terrifying.

I have to say, I am not loving this idea.

This is why I’m back up to two Diet Dr. Peppers a day. I’m so bloody sleepy.

I wonder.

OK, I’ll do an intro to Books I Can’t Seem to Finish. Later. Not today. Another day.

I have to go pick up some chickens now.



The Righteous Mind

(does this photo seem really LARGE to you? it’s not supposed to be so LARGE, Marge!)

Here’s the thing: This is a really good, insightful, interesting, thoughtful book. I’m a huge fan of Jonathan Haidt. Heterodox Academy? Hells to the Yes. (Even though they won’t let me in because I’m not tenured faculty. Fie, I say. I work at a liberal arts university full time. I’ve seen the destruction first hand! But I digress.) But I’ve been reading this book for, oh, going on two years now, and I’m not even halfway through.

And to be absolutely contrary about it, I wish everyone would read it. It’s important shit. For real.

One thing that I find off-putting about it as a whole is the summary at the end of the chapter. It’s not a textbook. Now, maybe it should be a textbook, but it isn’t one. Just add a blurb in the introduction (was there an introduction? I don’t even remember, it’s been so long since I started reading this book) that says something to the effect of “Listen, just grab your favorite brand of highlighter and be prepared to light some shit up. You’ll want to refer back and also probably share this with your particularly smug, self-righteous friends.”

There is an introduction. I just checked. Problem solved. Almost.

There are some amusing anecdotes sprinkled throughout that are funny and cute and help illustrate the point nicely. If I remember correctly.

I even brought this thing to work thinking, hey, it’s like professional development or something. I can read it when shit is slow. And I did. Like three times. In the last six months.

Honestly, at this point I feel like I need to start the whole book over at page one. (Not the introduction. Most of the time I feel introductions contribute nothing of any real value to the work, though there are exceptions. Important exceptions.)

The thing is, of all of the books on the (sort of becoming embarrassingly) long list of books I can’t seem to finish, this is one of the ones I’d really like to. So maybe I will start over. With a highlighter. And come back and share some of the more interesting points with you.

But just between us? You probably shouldn’t hold your breath.

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