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Here is a Sup—I mean repository of the texts of my together with some readings of them. The essays were broadcast by WXXI 91.5 Classical of Rochester, NY on Salmagundy each Saturday at 9:35am Eastern Time, from the beginning of time (1985) till May 2009 when Entropa (evil Goddess of Change-for-the-Worse-or-Possibly-the-Worst) troubled the minds of the WXXIites and they retired Simon and Salmagundy, and Rochester went into a terminal decline---for ever.
I continued on that brilliant bastion of all that's good and kultured, WCLV's syndicated Weekend Radio on many (mainly NPRish) stations traditionally on the first and third weekends of the month, though weekendage varied, till the horror crept ever onward and that too was devoured (in August 2023, a date which will live in infamy or at lease mild irritation)... and only I remain, defiant though wimpering.
Richard Howland-Bolton
There are pop-up pics and links all over the place here. In text they are indicated by a double underline like this:
mouse-overing brings the pop-up up and clicking (usually) goes to the link |
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Soldiers with low morale, or maybe just those who would really rather be somewhere other than a place where people seem to be shooting at them all the time, have traditionally shot themselves in the foot, a sad practice and one that may, according to my latest informants, be spreading to that equally bloody and stressful world...
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Boy am I tired! I just drove all the way from Plano to Ithaca and back, 3,308 miles in about sixty-three and a half hours at an average speed of very approximately 52.0944882 miles per hour.
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I just carefully and gently put down a newspaper in which there was yet another of those strange jokes about how horrible fruitcakes are and what an unwelcome gift one makes ...
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 No one has, as far as I know, yet claimed that if you take an infinite number of wise monkeys and divide them into three groups they will eventually neither see a production of Hamlet, nor hear a production of Hamlet nor, for that matter, even talk loudly about a production of Hamlet during the quieter bits.
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As I might have mentioned before I suffer from recurrent (and, now that the weather down here has got so hot, quite debilitating) attacks of jogging.
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Oh you may talk of Spanglish, or even talk in it, if you like: you may complain (as the French so frequently do) about Franglais, or join the proponents of a whole slew of languages---
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And another thing! Have you noticed how people treat the adverb "another" now-a-days? this vicious treatment is, as they say, a whole nother thing, in fact it's about as wholly notherish as can be.
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You probably haven't noticed, but these essays of mine are supposed to be, at least mildly, humorous, and to my horror I've just discovered that I'm not funny over here in America.
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Hello. This just in: here is a report live from our irony department: where our roving cub reporter is out playing cowboys and indians in a park somewhere in Texas where, even as they are happily shouting "Bang! Bang! You're dead!" with such innocent glee, there is a move afoot by the City Council to make public use of toy guns by children illegal, while at almost exactly the same time, and not so far away, over in Austin, the Texas legislature appears to be all set to pass a bill to allow concealed handguns in government buildings and other public places.
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Well, while I was looking the other way it happened again, another year has wasted itself away and it’s my damned birthday again. And now I’ll have to put up with having to be... well a whole year older than I had to put up with being for the last twelve months.
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