In which your hero is spared a life of arrogance and stunted creativity thanks to a relay race gone wrong and a pedophile.
The story of a visionary president, a moonshot and the most powerful toilet bowl cleaners known to man.
Down at the pmail warehouse, I’m scuba diving in my Incoming bin and CCing people like a dervish. If only I could find time to do some actual work.
Being an explanation of why blog categories just don’t work for me and why the navigation is so useless on this blog.
Ahwahnee, Majestic, planet, not a planet. Does it make any difference? For some people it’s a big deal. For me, not so much, but if I can just get investors for my hotel on Pluto, I can make the people who care very happy.
As we edge toward the third decade of the 21st century, I have decided that it is time to forge ahead with a new literary genre — the forgetoir, a record of all the things we’ve forgotten or, at least, are trying to forget.
The varieties of LinkedIn Connections seem so limiting.
Jason lived between a hammer and an anvil, between his wife and the Caledcotts
I’m troubled by how awesome you all are on Facebook. This is why my Facebook feed seems so impersonal
There is no English Academy, like there is for French, to protect our language from Philistines. So I’m saying it here: if I ever say in seriousness that I have found a great new lifehack, please shoot me. There’s nothing left worth saving.