Tuesday, February 24, 2004



Speaking of climate change (which if it occurs will turn my lake mountainside home into oceanside property), there I was mentally tomorrow morning, heading for the deck with my thong in one hand and my coconut butter in the other (no need for you to visualize this in any detail), there to lie on a straw mat and bathe in the first warming golden sun of Spring, catch some of the rays of Ra, assuage my pallidity, throw off the icy shackles of winter, corporeally high-five with the great outdoors etc. etc., but why go on in this mad vein: when I got up in the morning the sky was gray and the world was a Frost Museum. "Fascinating cascade of sparkling white crystals all over his goosebumps, don't you agree? And at the upper extreme, we have an excellent example of the Mount Rushmore phenomenon, believed to have occurred when..." And so on. And they call it global warming. But then they've never been here, have they, whoever they are, with or without their thongs.

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