I vividly remember the first time I stared into a clear, night sky, somewhere far from city lights, and came face to face with my philosophically minute meaninglessness. My three or four or five-year-old self drank in my insignificance with growing terror until a shooting star or a mooing cow…
As I promised last week… 1. He was a bully in prep school, (I’m in Detroit, and I can see his prep school from here), and he’s been a bully in business. 2. He calls himself Mitt. 3. He has no moral center and has no true position on any issue. No…that’s not…
At 14, even though I wasn’t much of a car kid, I remember watching Tod and Buz, (really, one ‘d’, one ‘z’), motor down Route 66 in their vintage, (I guess it wasn’t so vintage then), Vette, living a carefree life of hedonistic adventure and thinking…that’s definitely something I want…
…and there’s nobody there to read it… There’s a lot of really smart, insightful stuff written every day by scholars, scholarly journalists, far-thinking bloggers and, often, the most common among us. Too much of this potentially life-changing wisdom falls silently in metaphorically unpeopled forests or is called into question by…