Spring, she is here, tra la. The forsythia is in full bloom, the air soft enough for sandals. Sandals! In the laundry this afternoon I was pairing wool socks. Seasons change two ways — gradually and all of a sudden.
So what did we do? Drove to the grocery with the sunroof open. Yee-haw.
Eh, you’re not here to read what I did on an unseasonably warm day. You want to while away your Good Friday with bloggage:
See the video that made my 9-year-old giggle so hard I feared she’d wet the couch. It’s violent and contains mild profanity, so we’re right on schedule to be watching “The Godfather” together in a year or two, don’t you think? And thanks, Eric Zorn, for pointing us to “The Easter Bunny Hates You.”
Mapping religion in America is a fascinating time-stealer, if an educational one. I’m only sorry the maps won’t blow up larger.
Why I’m glad this doofus is no longer my congressman, part of a never-ending series.
Our long local nightmare has ended: Public-radio pledge week, which was public-radio pledge fortnight here, is finally over. The good news/bad news ratio: They exceeded their “revised goal.” The goal was revised, and pledge time lengthened, after the station got a bit more than half their original goal. (It’s like the Soviet Union, isn’t it?) Station officials blame a poor local economy, and claim the general manager’s being under indictment for embezzling from his last public-radio employer? Had no effect. Well, it is Detroit.