Syllabus #84

We've nearly reached the last syllabus of 2020.  One more after this, and then we can turn our backs on the acrid dumpster fire that has been this entire wretched year.  That's not to say things will instantly be better at the stroke of midnight on January 1st, but we have some hope on the horizon.  There's a flickering light at the end of the tunnel, and it might be a mirage, but dammit let's wade through the sewage and dodge the hungry rats and hurry up and find out.

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Well here's your obligatory heavy shit - New York Times' 2020 in pictures.  It's hard to believe all of this shit happened this year.  

The line forms...where exactly?  That orderly queue is gonna look like the Apple Store on New iPhone Day but replace skinny tech hipsters with every contractor and labor leader in the state of New Jersey.  So basically a scary scary line full of Tonys and Larrys.  Basically exactly the kind of angry mob that I'd love to see take down anything DT has ever once touched.

Hey this looks familiar...I have these bowls! (Thanks, Mom!)  However, I was shocked - shocked - to read that they are dishwasher safe.  I've had mine for a few years and unless they've changed something about their composition I was under the impression they had to be hand-washed.  I'm always getting on Andy's case for using them for something dumb like a handful of almonds.  Like, thanks for giving me another chore to do, guy.

"There are several things wrong with Malcom Gladwell's Defense of Masturbating in Front of Co-Workers" is not a headline I ever expected to see, but then again, neither were most of the headlines published throughout 2020.  Brings new meaning to the idea of 'the tipping point,' doesn't it?

I'd like to think Sinatra died the night of the Seinfeld finale because his heart just broke knowing the show was over...

HOME ALONE IS 30.  THIRTY.  3-0 years old.  Nothing has made me feel older.  Not the grey hairs, not the veiny legs, the crepey neck skin, the paying of taxes or the deliberate consumption of fiber.  Kevin foiled the Wet Bandits 30 years ago, and I still can't leave my own house for the holidays without waking up in a cold sweat that I left behind something very important and/or a home invasion is actively in progress.  Damn.  Also, how beautifully has Catherine O'Hara aged?

Analog Reading:

Finished How to Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi.  I'm glad I read it, and the ideas it contains are important, but it definitely wasn't a light read.  Duh.  It took me a lot longer to work through it, but that's probably a good thing.

Wolfed down Via Negativa by Daniel Hornsby.  'Wolfed' being a mild pun because it's a book about a former priest driving around the country in his Camry with a wounded coyote in the backseat.  It was a fast read, and not something I would have normally picked up, but Andy asked me to return it to the library and I was all, well, first lemme take a look...