Love the online version of The New York Times . Love, love, love it. However—and this has a big capital H, followed by a long pause wherein I don’t type—however, a recent mailing they sent caused me to heartedly question our future together. First off let me share with you that I am grateful every time I peruse their online edition, and have been for more than five years. There is no paper to unfold and fold, no ink smearing my fingertips, no yellowing newsprint stored in my recycle bin, and no trudging said paper off to the Duxbury town dump. (I don’t abide calling it a “transfer station.” “Dump” gets us where we need to go 75% quicker.) Most enjoyable, though, is not having to pick through murders and robberies and other garbage to find my science and health news. Unlike the printed paper, online I see only headlines and snippets until I click a specific article that I choose to read. This makes for less junk going to my subconscious. I keep a clean mind, see. So, I’m reading th...
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Thanks for the kudos for my depiction of you, but I like yours. Not sure about your ear lobes, but hey, we all have our own little fixations.
Arrr, a pirate has no care fer the likes'a you nor me, Master Bill. We be thankful we escaped with our lives.
(I'd argue against my drawing being not as true-to-life as Bill's, but not in front of Pirate Jenny.)
Chips Ahoy, maties!