Big League riddle

The good blog ‘Language Log’ weighs in helpfully on this ‘bigly’ quiddity.

Driving people nuts


I have owned cars and have loved driving; that was back in the day. I still drive but only rarely, and with no joy; I haven’t owned a car in 25 years. Vancouver’s trains and buses (and bus-drivers) are fine by me, truly.

If I had a car, I would have to find a place to park it; in my neighbourhood, and with my lack of patience, that would be a frequent and painful irritation, to say the least.

One of my favourite bloggers, Atrios, writes about the parking wars [a favourite topic], in a post called “Always Read the Comments.”

I [read them], anyway. They’re the most fun! Though often the most enraging, too. This is a fun comments section, with people discussing whether or not it’s rude to park in front of someone else’s house on a public street. At least here in the urban hellhole [Philadelphia], people are usually reasonably happy as long as they can get a spot on their own block (except for the whole “snow savesies” thing…).

Definitely read the comments and see the boiling blood. And then go for a good bike ride.


Exception that proves the rule:


This one might be fun.

City sign



These were on the wires behind my apartment building for five years at least. Noticed this morning they were gone. Should I feel safer and happier or not?

All around

A most vivid memory is of smoking cigarettes and drinking shots and beers together at the end of the bar at the Pink Flamingo in 1990 or thereabouts, separating ourselves from the crowds of our friends who were dancing around and arguing and comparing writing and painting and film projects and basically loving one another. By our proximity we were loving them, too.

With no relief Penny was obstreperous – and fun to be around, as far as I was concerned. (I liked tough women.) An old pal walked over to me and tried to warn me away from her. I was too drunk to move, but wouldn’t have anyway. At night’s end, a friend of a friend got me home, safe and sound. A happy memory, all around.


Sunday morning …

coming down.

A sweet belligerence sings into my old heart.



People who have a good sense of humour are rarely funny themselves. In contrast I am often very funny indeed, but I have no sense of humour (except for my own).

Sometimes when I am feeling rude I will tell a friend who just told a joke or a funny story, “I can see how other people would find that humorous.” And then we laugh.



My son, Dr. Miles Basil, has a birthday today. I am very proud of him.