December 11, 2005

Gleanings

More McSweeneys pop song correspondences, A LETTER TO ELTON JOHN FROM THE OFFICE OF THE NASA ADMINISTRATOR. A sample: ‘After demanding data from you for days, you were only able to offer this insight: “Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids. In fact, it’s cold as hell. And there’s no one there to raise them if you did.” First off, if you did what? That doesn’t even make sense. Secondly, we did not send you up there to evaluate whether Mars is fit for human habitation or child rearing. Thirdly, your mission was not even going to Mars.'” On a lifetime spent with books. How Woolfian: how to read a book. And no federal election coverage, because it’s so damn boring!

Essay WordCount: 2300