02 August 2018

Biscuits browning, and the seizure of otter pelts

Mary Jane she set at the head of the table, with Susan alongside of her, and said how bad the biscuits was, and how mean the preserves was, and how ornery and tough the fried chicken was–and all that kind of rot, the way women always do for to force out compliments;  and the people all knowed everything was tiptop, and said so–said “How DO you get the biscuits to brown so nice?” and “Where, for land’s sake, DID you get these amaz’n pickles?” and all that kind of humbug talky-talk, just the way people always do at supper, you know.
– Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler’s mind.
– Douglas Adams, So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

This was too much for the patience of the captain, who was never remarkable for relishing a joke, especially when at his own expense.  Turning suddenly upon his persecutor, he snatched the proffered otter-skin from his hands, rubbed it in his face, and dismissed him over the side of the ship with no very complimentary application to accelerate his exit.
– Washington Irving, Astoria

Many people in life deserve the courtesy of a second chance, but maybe I’m not among them.
– D. Reginald “Pooky” Chimpsworth-Byrne

Just today I learn that a ‘virtual friend’ of mine has never heard an actual performance of any of Buxtehude’s organ music;  this is the saddest piece of news I have heard all day.

Other friends of mine, actual and virtual, are collecting rejection notices for their fiction;  so I shall decline to complain about something so pale as, the fact that the notification – the rejection, in all probability – which was “supposed to” come forth, more than two weeks ago, has not arrived yet.  In the most optimistic reading, the decision has not yet been made, and . . . maybe, even now.

And in the press, down Florida way:

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