The History of Science
“Mommy! Daddy! I caught a fish!”
The fish in question, well, it was a fish. It was just… dead. Making an educated guess that the fish didn’t die in transit from the water to the edge of the blanket, both I and my wife congratulated our son, took the fish gratefully (and with delicate fingers), and deposited it in the trash when we weren’t being observed. This was shortly after receiving the fish, as this son of ours bolted back to the water in search of more fish. I think he fancied himself a bear, swiping salmon from the river …
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Authorial intrusion… For a second, imagine yourself on a lake, in a canoe… the waves lap gently… hang on, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. No. I wanted to talk to you about the future. Picture me by a fireside, in a wheelchair, having a chat with you. If you like, picture me looking a lot like FDR. I don’t look like FDR in real life, but on the internet, no one knows you’re a dog, as they say. I’m not a dog, either. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. If you dopicture me as FDR, please picture me as him with his glasses on. I don’t know why I’d like that, it’s just a gut feeling I have.
So I’m sitting here, with a flannel blanket in my imaginary lap, typing to you, Dear Reader. And what I’m typing is this: In the future, the near future, I, one of the main writers of Sane Magazine, and, frankly, the only one doing any writing these days for the magazine what with the new Nintendo Wii and iPhones and everything.
Besides the Horoscope Writer. Who gets paid far more than I do. So. So what’s going to happen here, in this space, in the future, is that there are going to be less issue-like missives and more like progress reports. You see, I, the main writer for Ye Olde Sane Magazine, I will be working on a new project. And I will be commenting on it, about it, around it, whatever it may be, you can bet it’ll be related, if only tangentially, to this new project.
As for the horoscopes, by far the more popular part of Sane Magazine, they will be getting a little treat for you Mac nuts to follow along when each week’s horoscopes are published, but that, too, is not ready.
Author out.
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Which was the first hint they should have taken that he’d go off to live with the bears when he reached the ripe age of eighteen.
So there’s that little thing, then.
Oh, and we’ll also not be mailing you when there are new issues out, because we figure that’s annoying for all involved.
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