Overheard in Paradise
“Vegans? 40 vegans?! Look, no offense vegans — I’m sure you’re all wonderful people. But this is total bullshit.”
"…something like the supervisor of an entire team of political agents…"
“Vegans? 40 vegans?! Look, no offense vegans — I’m sure you’re all wonderful people. But this is total bullshit.”
“‘Come in to the Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarch Chat Thread,’ said the spider… et cetera…”
Hey presto: Week 6! Welcome back from the break. Thanks to so-called “Bill” for the suggestion — it just in time for me. I finally caught up last night — for the first time in, oh about 6 weeks. For anyone still a ways back, the good news is that the trail from around 200-278 … Read more
Had a vegan chocolate chip cookie at lunch today and it was delicious, you know? But I felt kind of guilty. About all those vegans.
I’ve been ranting a little bit over on edgewise about the Iraqi elections — and in particular about the creepy lack of media attention to the results of late. The most recent vent quotes from our old pal Pynchon. Read all about it here.
“so much depends upon a Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarch Chat Thread glazed with rain water beside the white chickens.”
In last week’s comments, so-called “Bill” made the excellent suggestion that we use this week to give folks a chance to catch up, rest, recuperate. Consider this “The Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarch Picnic in a Trench by the Side of the Road.” Enjoy the break and use this thread for bookly comments. I’ll post a chat … Read more
“You best start believing in chat threads for Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarches, Miss Turner; you’re in one.”
Welcome to Week 4. We’re holding pretty steady with something close to 20 people still on the march. Not bad at all… Most of us, me included, are a little bit behind. My current strategy is to catch up by skipping every other word on pages 250-300. We’ll see how that goes. The comments flew … Read more
They went driving in the rain. They watched it fall down on jelly-eyed twenty-eight-years-olds in gold paisley coats, side-burned thirty-seven-year-olds in suspect camping gear, fit fifty-year-olds wearing thick, graying furs plucked from cardboard boxes. Early on, almost at the very first beat, the rhythm section took their jackets off. Red shirt, tan shirt. Suspenders. Brown … Read more