Bees on a Drowsy Day
Chet Raymo manages to coax an entire essay out of a description of a kiss: "The way bees on a drowsy day suck honey from fuchsia."
Chet Raymo manages to coax an entire essay out of a description of a kiss: "The way bees on a drowsy day suck honey from fuchsia."
<I>Universe Today</I> has posted a photo of a pulsar eating a star. Well, <I>I'd</I> never seen that before.
Stevie Nicks would like her forties back. "'It was eight completely wasted years of my life.' Here's the irony, she says: the 'powers that be' had sent her to the psychiatrist in order to keep her working, but the 'treatment' he gave her made work almost impossible. 'It's very Shakespearean. It's very much a tragedy.'"
I think this is a not so subtle ruse to get guys to iron. If so, good job.
Moises Kaufman has written <I>33 Variations</I>, a play that explores Beethoven's obsession with Diabelli's inane little waltz. Sounds worth seeing—or you could buy <A HREF="http://www.stereophile.com/musicrecordings/506dia/">this</A>.
Euan Ferguson took the Tube last week. "Only three stops on the Piccadilly line between Knightsbridge and the centre of town, and I would have got there more quickly, pleasantly, and safely by crawling backwards through the linking sewers with a twitching rat in my mouth and open bleeding weals on my bare backside."
Growing up in the shadow of Monticello, I was raised on tales of Jefferson's taste for wine—after all, the estate had its own vineyards, distillery, and acres of crocuses for saffron. What had us all buzzing were the acres of hemp—local heads maintained that TJ never missed a hemp harvest. <I>Right</I>.
Apes and wolves do not. Not news to any dog owner, although I cannot speak for ape or wolf owners.
Don't recognize the name? He's the guy who brought you Two Buck Chuck's. He 's a bit of a bully and he's crude—and, as Joel Stein notes, <I>that's</I> when someone with a notebook is following him around.