A little Hermann Hesse to go with this photo from Sunday morning. I like how Ezra looks more confident than Henry here, he obviously knows something that I don't.
Of that, I am not surprised!
So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
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and Henry is a smart chap to be holding a lil baby with such mastery.
Priyanka, they are both brainiacs!
Jackie, I’m assuming that they are...
Frances, I almost did my back in last night trying to calm him down. I don’t know how Jen does it all day!
Roderick, I may have to cancel it if Henry doesn’t knock off all the “MINE!” business.
Louis, they don’t like to disappoint the fan club...