Hammer Mill Days

You can't lift that? Are you sure? Try again. Put your back into it. Some robot assistant you turned out to be! Can't even lift a freaking bottlecap. Okay, well, here we are on a virtually invisible "supermass" planet orbiting the red giant Antares. Hate to tell you what the fine is for littering on this rock. Something to do with being staked out while drunken cops take pot shots at you with flame throwers. (I think I've got that right.) Thing is, the gravity here is outrageous. I admit we've all put on a few (and when I say "all" I mean "me") since our salad days back in the '80s, but on Antares 3 we're all heavyweights. In fact, I weigh about seventeen tons here. (I'm talking metric tons, besides.) And when you drop something, it's like the sucker is welded to the ground. (Of course, in places, the ground is molten, so it might just BE welded to the ground.) I shouldn't blame Marvin (my personal robot assistant) for ...

Had a feeling it was going to be this bad, but honestly... I guess I didn't realize how bad "this bad" truly could be. The congressional district I live in (NY-24) is being completely flooded with ads paid for by both candidates and independent front groups. Watch five minutes of commercial television and you will see an unrelenting battle between these forces, in which the ads overwhelmingly spotlight the candidates they oppose. They've got the low, ominous music, the gravel-voice guy, the nasal, sarcastic-sounding lady, the uncomplimentary photos of Brand X candidate, all cloudy and grayscaled. Some are clearly national ads customized to fit the district; others home made. All are execrable. It would be no surprise to anyone who reads this blog that I have voted for (and even volunteered for) Michael Arcuri (D-NY) in the past. That is not because of any deep or enduring loyalty towards the candidate; again, I vote strategically. His election means one less vote for ...