This here blog thing has been shut up for a week or so, partly because I inflicted a little injury on my right hand that makes it hard for me to type, and partly because I can't think of anything much to say, now that the election is over. That had really occupied my thoughts for the past several weeks.
So, I guess I'll do what I usually do when nothing in the news or in my life inspires me -- I'll tell you a story. This one involves my poor old pal Tony, the guy with the gorgeous Persian cat named Larry (see "Tony's Cat," November 2, 2011).
Tony and I were sitting in my living room talking, and I happened to notice something about my very nice solid walnut bookcase (six feet high, three feet wide) that stood at the other end of the room. You could plainly see that the three shelves that were movable were beginning to bow under the weight of the books. I pointed this out to Tony and said, "I'll have to turn them upside down."
"What good will that do?" he wanted to know.
"It will bend them back the other way."
"Turning the books upside down is not going to help anything," said he.
Okay, Tony. Thanks.
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