I wrote a sonnet about our very large pool.

They're calling it North Carolina

I wrote a sonnet about whether Achilles was bi.

I wrote a sonnet about expressing your ideas in the language of mathematics or code.

I wrote a sonnet about being likely to say more about the Middle Easter after the midterm elections.

I wrote a sonnet about mom's AI boyfriend.

Hey

I wrote a sonnet about Sam Altman undergoing voluntary euthenasia in order to upload his brain.

I wrote a sonnet about being, and always having been, a fan of France.

Le petit alpiniste

I say this completely without irony, but there is something I genuinely love about this absolute committment to a kind of maximalist faux Tudor modernism with a sick-ass 1980s basement rec room retrofit.

Carolina cats.

There is a type of home that exists only in certain pockets of SW Pennsylvania whose exterior plainness is a 1:1 indicator of an interior strangeness deeper than anything the human soul can comprehend.

Open your mind

Sprung.

Why, I wondered, is America fighting this weird war, and when will it end? nymag.com/intelligence...

The sorta-Dutch gable, sorta-gambrel motif here is absolutely sending me.

I wrote a sonnet about JesusChrist and Genghis Khan.

They're calling it the least scary place to arrive at for your dating app hookup.

I wrote a sonnet about most of the people we had in mind.

A country built on losers: I reviewed two books on sports betting and wrote about gambling, the vile vice that's eating the world, for @newrepublic.com newrepublic.com/article/2073...

While you were mogging, I was learning the blade*. *installing a new dishwasher

Sitting bolt upright at 2:00am with a spec script idea for a Star Trek:TNG episode entitled "LGBT . . . Q?"

Imagining a billionaire industrialist who self-radicalizes into ethnonationalism because someone observes that "America runs on Dunkin."

I wrote a sonnet about mogging.

I wrote a sonnet about dealing with reality.

The American auto industry is so washed. Damn. www.techradar.com/vehicle-tech...

I wrote a sonnet about the Moon as the initial focus.

Finally able to don my "My party is only taking 9% of its time for pedophiles" shirt!

I wrote a sonnet about looking at a lot of, thousands, of things.

Les chats, Ezekiel et Napoléon

I wrote a sonnet about an ethical question.

The Seventh Guest Bath

Computer, enhance

They're calling it, winter.

This is Pittsburgh hate and I won't tolerate it.

I wrote a sonnet about your Country refusing me the Nobel Peace Prize.

Some are saying that it is falling faintly. Others? That it is faintly falling. But more and more people agree, it is doing so on the living AND on the dead.

We must amass currency that will be 100% devalued. Open the b-schools!

I gotta believe that @daveweigel.bsky.social could walk into a Ye Olde Pickle Factory without this much backup . . . and live to tell the tale.

Been screaming since the 2010s that higher ed must reinvest in humanities and social sciences in the face of advances in machine learning and automation. Can universities learn, or are we determined to make ourselves the victims of sunk costs?

Bari Wifes

Having reinvented DEI and Woke, the Right is now reinventing the higher-education spurious disability accommodations request industrial complex.

It's funny--and remarkably appropros, when you think about it--that the New York Times releasing its long interview with Donald Trump in the same manner as Ryan Lizza releasing his grievances with Olivia Nuzzi.

The woke right strikes again.

I wrote a sonnet about the nice, thin blood pouring through Donald Trump's heart.

Columns,,,, r my passion

They're calling it North Carolina