The Writer's Life 2/18 - President's Day

I didn't find any of today's news stories interesting, even the case of the actor who may have fabricated a tale about a bias attack against him, who may have hired two friends to help pull it off, and the typical rush to judgment it aroused. I'm sure Al Sharpton will conjure a Tawana Brawley-type defense of the guy. And I've known about the attempted coup against President Trump for more than a year. The evidence indicates high government officials and the Clinton campaign were in a conspiracy of the self righteous. Never underestimate how low people in politics or the mainstream media, which will continue to push this story into the background,will go. Hats off to you, Mr. Trump, on President's Day.

Here are some fun facts I culled from a list of 50 at pun.me:
Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour. Writers doing it metaphorically burn nothing.
"Pencil" comes from a Latin word meaning small penis. All these years and I don't recall having ever heard this, despite the "lead in your pencil" phrase I've used occasionally myself.
It takes more calories to eat a piece of celery than the celery has in it.
Every day more money is printed for monopoly than the U.S. Treasury. This must have been before the deficit rose to $22 trillion.
A sneeze travels more than 100 mph.
On average a human breathes about five million times a year. Don't tell obsessive-compulsives.

I once read that 70% of new businesses fail. When Amazon first started out and faced possible collapse every day, I doubt it received help from the government. Now that it's a billion dollar company headed by a mega-rich honcho, it wants tax breaks to locate its second headquarters in a city willing to provide them. While I believe corporations, who provide jobs and health care to millions of employees, have a lot of legitimate complaints about taxation, it's annoying to see any making such demands.

For the second straight day I made an error in judgment regarding the location of the floating book shop. I packed up after an hour-and-a-half and no sales, as a cold wind was whipping along Avenue Z. I had to haul the wares back and forth about 60 yards. Even though I left two large boxes in the car, it was probably dumb for a guy my age, 68, to work that hard. Every winter there are stories in the paper about poor souls suffering a heart attack while shoveling snow. I wonder if the toil I undertook is the equivalent of that. If I'd gone to Bay Parkway, I could have set the display right beside the car and sat in it if I got cold. My thanks to Cabbie, who donated a paperback thriller, and to Herbie, who stood guard while I hauled the stuff back to the old Hyundai.

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