Well, another summer gone. I held high hopes for this summer: it might be the last one with all my kids home. It didn't go poorly, but I was absolutely swamped at the office, which made it inordinately difficult to enjoy the season.
I like to work, and I enjoy most of my clients, so I count my blessings, but I definitively would've preferred more leisure these last couple of months.
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There are certain little things I can't seem to remember. It's been that way my entire adult life. One of them: Does one capitalize the seasons? The answer is "no." Seasons are lower-case. Rule 7.74. Unless they are personified: "Then Spring--with her warm showers--arrived." Rule 7.32.
Those are Rules from The Chicago Manual of Style, 14th Edition. It's the guide I used when editing Gilbert Magazine and, though it is a magnificent tome, the only one I'll ever buy. If they change the Rules, I'll have to keep up with them via the Web.
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The meddlesome threesome--Richard Durbin of Illinois, Edward Markey of Massachusetts and Richard Blumenthal of Connecticut--are at it again, but instead of tobacco, they're aiming at energy drinks. Link.
Self-righteousness is a terrible thing. The self-righteous violate the first rule of human conduct: "Know thyself." The self-righteous always think they're acting for noble reasons when they are normally acting out of the basest self-interest. Trust me, I know this first hand. If you're afflicted with self-righteousness, the only remedy is to become very small, St. Therese of Lisieux-like, and even then, it's a hard road to recovery.
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The best people in Washington are self-righteous. The others are self-admitted liars and thieves. And Washington has all the power. This country is in a bad way.
