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Monday Morning Memo

One day a bunch of them ganged up on me, thinking
they would take me out. This was not a good plan.
Three old women had to sew them back together.

That’s right.
I’m bad. 

The whole thing reminded me of the time I asked Wizzo what he was reading. I had walked into the room and caught him looking into a book and smiling. Instead of answering me, he just turned the book toward me and let me read it for myself:

“For the X millions of years of our existence as a species, the odds against a child’s surviving to adulthood were very great. Germs, malnutrition, accidents, infections made the bringing up of a child to manhood or womanhood a kind of triumph in itself… Miscarriages caused by overwork and too little food were far more numerous than they are now, while the plagues of smallpox, diphtheria, scarlet fever, cholera and finally colic were not unknown. It is possible but not provable that this screening for manhood and womanhood weeded out the weaklings, the whiners, the chronic failures, the neurotic, the violent, and the accident-prone; but we know from history that these factors did not eliminate all the stupid.”

– “John Steinbeck’s America: The Pursuit of Happiness.” 
Weekend with Newsday (November 16, 1966)
 


Steinbeck was right. Natural selection did not weed out all the stupid from among the tigers. I met five stupid tigers one day who were dumb enough to pounce on a beagle carrying a sword.
– Indy 

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Random Quote:

“The mice which haunted my house were not the common ones, which are said to have been introduced into the country, but a wild native kind not found in the village. I sent one to a distinguished naturalist, and it interested him much. When I was building, one of these had its nest underneath the house, and before I had laid the second floor, and swept out the shavings, would come out regularly at lunch time and pick up the crumbs at my feet. It probably had never seen a man before; and it soon became quite familiar, and would run over my shoes and up my clothes. It could readily ascend the sides of the room by short impulses, like a squirrel, which it resembled in its motions. At length, as I leaned with my elbow on the bench one day, it ran up my clothes, and along my sleeve, and round and round the paper which held my dinner, while I kept the latter close, and dodged and played at bopeep with it; and when at last I held still a piece of cheese between my thumb and finger, it came and nibbled it, sitting in my hand, and afterward cleaned its face and paws, like a fly, and walked away.”

- Henry David Thoreau, from Walden (1845-1847) "Brute Neighbors"

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