As much as I hate to say it, this is about it for me. Tomorrow is our departure for the southern hemisphere. There’s an internet cafe down the street from our hotel. I will try to blog. I do not promise to blog. I will certainly take good notes for a big upload in eight days or so, but no promises for in between.
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this timeless image of Christmas. What? You mean you don’t have a white fiber-optic Christmas tree covered with Holiday Barbie ornaments? Get one.
See you, oh, a week from Friday? Sounds about right.
UPDATE: OK, I can’t stand it. I have to leave you with this, a remarkably straight account on, er, “alternative” naming (of actual children, mind you), by a Freep columnist:
Of late, the surprise inspiration for names has been products. In researching a list from the Social Security Administration of babies born in 2000, Evans found 273 boys and 298 girls named Armani, and 526 boys and 741 girls names Harley.
Cars and alcohol seem to inspire names; perhaps the combination was the inspiration for the children themselves. Evans has noticed a smattering of names like: Skyy, Champagne, Chianti, Chardonnay, Courvoisie(r) and Guinness, along with Lexus, Infiniti, Jetta and Camry.
A couple years ago, a particularly heinous murder in the Fort was perpetrated by a man named Ronrico. “That’s what his mom was drinking the night she conceived him,” I told Alan. I meant it as a joke; little did I know.
Sounds like a good time to flee the country.