Long Story; Short Pier.

God, hes left as on aur oun.

Lakebed.

Walking dog.

Perfume garden.

Highsmith.

Bing!

Acornsoft.

Dittochamber.

Via Skimble (who has a truly creepy piece on “cracker chic”) (and who, granted, got the impetus from Atrios): there’s an echo out there. Seventeen hoodwinked newspaper editors and counting. Not that I have the time, but maybe some enterprising lefty blogger should maybe front and hook up with the RNC’s faxblast-o-rama to give us advance warning? —Think of it as a wildfeed for Fox News.

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Pandora.

Cyril Connolly.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine: “Mass”

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