Limerick Friday #648: That's Fan Sentiment The Mets Are Flushing -- Day 2,090

Sugar and Polar Bear out the door

And looking at maybe more

Not considering the fans

As part of offseason plans

That's the only thing that's for sure

Made more than one roster tweak

Went on a three-game winning streak

Grabbed a playoff spot

Way to go, Scott

Now's the time to be bold and not meek

Boasts were made

Players were paid

Even though it's early

The fanbase is getting surly

Time to produce, Will Wade

Every hard lesson he learns

The more vitriol he earns

When sentiment has gotten you zero

The Mets need some kind of hero

Would not want to be David Stearns

A reputation I protect

For teammates I don't respect

Roll in like asses

And piss off the masses

An approach I flatly reject

Last time ...

Limerick Friday #647: Make It Five In A Row Over UNC-Fraud -- Day 2,083

Bitching the Cheats

To the sound of hoarse bleats

Despite frigid cold

It'll never get old

Even when it repeats and repeats

Never a huge Nimmo fan

A brain-dead MAGA stan

Ship him anywhere

Let's get better there

And find good dudes where we can

Sports media's degradation

Both local and across the nation

Many factors at play

But you just have to say

Frauds and clowns on every station

Embarrassing the entire team

And coming apart at the seam

They make us all look bad

And don't care a tad

Them quitting would be a dream

Literally asleep on the job

Propped up by his pedo mob

A half-dead fatass felon

Without working cells in his melon

Wakes up only to lie, cheat, and rob

Last time ...

Day 2,080, Quasi-Quarantine: Formulaic "The Reappearance Of Rachel Price" Succumbs To Over-Reliance On Coincidence, Secrets

 

“People were temporary. It was the one thing you could count on: people always left, even Carter.”

Holly Jackson is back with a book that was high on intensity, but ultimately felt cut too closely to the formula she relied on for "Kill Joy," "As Good As Dead," "A Good Girl's Guide to Murder," and

"Good Girl, Bad Blood."

The protagonist of "The Reappearance of Rachel Price," Bel, shared perhaps too many similarities to Pippa -- the hero of the earlier books -- making it difficult for this tale to find its differentiator. The geography of the story was also brushed over entirely too much.

However, the mystery component was certainly compelling, and the documentary angle was a clever way to expose and interrogate truths and incidents.

While the ambition is admirable, the sheer number of coincidences and secrets shared in the final 50 pages or so may make for an overwhelming and cluttered conclusion for some readers.

“Some hurts were good: friends grew apart, people moved away, they left. It didn’t have to last forever to count. Things ended, this was ending, but that didn’t mean it never mattered.”

Day 2,069, Quasi-Quarantine: The Last Frontier, The Great Outdoors Propel Eerie "Black Woods Blue Sky"

 

“Again and again, fury and shame hot in her belly, she had tried to solve the problem of how a little girl can save her mother.”

Eowyn Ivey has done it again, making the rugged accessible and the raw beautiful. "Black Woods Blue Sky" brings to life a small girl's connection to a nature and creature she loves but doesn't understand.

After discovering and enjoying "The Snow Child," I received this book as part of a giveaway on Goodreads. The books share some similarities, but the presence of the Alaskan redneck community lends an important humanity to the tale.

“Her mom knew how to do lots of things. She knew how to find blueberries and catch fish and shoot a gun, but Emaleen was worried that she didn’t know how to keep them safe.”

The novel ran the risk of being too on the (bear) nose, but rescued itself with a beautiful and oddly sentimental ending. The tender tone created by this finale gave the author a clever vehicle to explore forgiveness and peace. 

“Unlike some lawmen and prosecutors Warren had known over the years, he did not see the world neatly split between perpetrators and victims but rather as a complex interchange of suffering.”

This book is a love note to Alaska, unexamined frontiers, and the endless internal struggle between who we are and who we'd like to be.

“So much left to happenstance and incredible endurance. Yet life thrived, unfurled its leaves toward the sun, and poured hope into its tender, fragile flowers.”

Day 2,066, Quasi-Quarantine: Hey Look, It's That Kind Of Season Again!

The Scooters are in the midst of a three-game losing streak (5-6 overall), and I really wish there was something on the roster I could point to as the culprit. But the reality is that, beyond the relatively normal litany of injuries, there's nothing tangible to point to.

Except:

• Dudes you first heard of like a week ago being picked up the day before the games and going for 30+ points against you (see Tucker, Sean).
• Opponents with shite rosters having the week of their lives on the weekend they happen to play you (I'm the league leader in fantasy points scored against by a large margin).
• Impossible-to-bench superstar players turning in weekly performances that pale in comparison to practice-squad call-ups (see Jefferson, Justin).

It's also a strange-ass league. Not only do we operate under a Premier League format that features annual relegations, but I've had two owners back out of trades they proposed. There is no interaction in the league message boards, no chat exchanges (not even to shit-talk), and trade requests come through via an automated mechanism that features no explanation.

I mean, hell, there's someone in the league carrying four quarterbacks, three tight ends, and two defenses! He's fucking 6-4. 

Look, I've been playing fantasy football for more than a quarter-century at this point (jeezus, that hurt to type). You're simply going to encounter a season where everything feels stacked against you, from injuries to randos having career days against you on the regular to trade offers that feel designed to incite violence.

I've experienced this type of season before. While the natural reaction is to toss up your hands -- especially when you legitimately struggle to see how or where you'd improve your roster -- I'm reminding my crew that there are still three weeks left in the regular season.

Onward. 

Now who the fuck is Emari Demercado ...

Limerick Friday #646: Yet More Grist For A Most-Awaited Obit -- Day 2,602

The latest scandal does really smell

But it's hard to actually tell

What will rattle his sycophants

Enough for them to pull up their pants

Hoping that sound is a death knell

Performances for the trash bins

Offset by easy wins

A different team every week

Collective schizophrenia at its peak

How do you figger the goddam 'Fins?

The Triangle media's afraid

After years being lazy and paid

Wolfpack hoops needs attention

From reporters with anal retention

Chalk it up to freaking Will Wade

Another Aaron Judge MVP snore

Critical thinking by votes was poor

The catcher got jobbed

You could even say robbed

Cal Raleigh deserved the award more

After horseshit luck in bunches

Decided to start playing hunches

Then things got even more rough

And lost to someone named Tyler Shough

And this is why I now just drink my lunches

Last time ...

Day 2,060, Quasi-Quarantine: Short-Story Collection "Oral History Of Atlantis" Blends Humor And Existential Dread

“Something is in the air, something desperate and a little depraved, held together by circuits and signals and stuffed up above in the cloud.”

~“Seven Women”

Possessing an irresistible fever-dream quality, "An Oral History of Atlantis" is an absorbing collection of short stories from Ed Park. Many of the characters seemed to have unexamined interconnections, and the tales themselves feature ennui, hilarity, and self-doubt.

“Psychopaths in office casual, USC pennants on the wall. All the guys talked fast, used nouns as verbs, verbs as nouns. Surface the stipend. Table the trash. They loved to hear themselves produce language.”

~“The Air as Air”

The book has a number of standouts, including "Weird Menace," "Bring on the Dancing Horses," "The Wife on Ambien," and "Slide to Unlock," with the overall impression being that of a master storyteller at work. Park is a clever observer, imbuing his clipped sentences with meaning and humor -- making for an unforgettable read.

“In our dreams no one knows what anyone is saying. The words are all wrong but the meanings are all right.”

~“Weird Menace”

Limerick Friday #645: Another Epic Night At The Finley -- Day 2,057

Carter-Finley was lit

The crowd would barely sit

In the seasonal cold

The Wolfpack got bold

Memories created as the field we hit

Another ridiculous fantasy loss

My hands I did toss

So I'm changing my tack

And trading for a viable back

Swinging for the fences as Scooters boss

The reaper took the long way

But all evil does finally pay

Burn in hell, Dick

You criminal prick

It's a helluva start to today

So many screams and screeds

Who actually hears and heeds?

Thought Stephen A. Smith was ignored years ago

But ESPN has tripled down on his show

Who actually listens to these anal beads?

Giving up the most points

'Tis a kick in the beans and joints

Third in points scored

But I can't afford

The BS that fantasy football anoints

Last time ...

Day 2,055, Quasi-Quarantine: Remembering When SNL Skewered The "Undecided" Voters

I've never understood "undecided" voters and never will, so until one of them can offer a coherent explanation of their existence, I'm just going to assume that they are incapable of critical thinking and never outgrew a sense of elementary-school entitlement.

Day 2,054, Quasi-Quarantine: Improbable Levels Of Turmoil Mark Spiritual Journey Revealed In "Isola"

“The stars are words enough. I understood this on the island.”

Based on the purportedly true story of Marguerite de La Rocque de Roberval, "Isola" documents the orphan's privileged young life and its quick descent into abuse. Allegra Goodman's work is captivating from the jump, as Marguerite becomes subject to the whims of a distant cousin who squanders her inherited fortune and imprisons her.

“As for me, I had fine slippers, silk gowns, and more land than I could see. Even my finch lived in a gilt cage, but when I looked at Claire and Madame D’Artois, I felt like a beggar at the door.”

She eventually becomes exiled to a barren Canadian island, where she suffers a series of almost infathomable losses. Marguerite prevails through abandonment in unforgiving environments to ultimately find her spiritual center.

“I considered the waves and thought, You are another riddle. What is constant and ever-changing? Who confines and consoles at the same time?”

The book gets preachy, beholden to sudden whims by key characters, and difficult to conclude satisfyingly, but Goodman's prose and pacing overcome most of the obstacles, making "Isola" an entrancing story.

“I wept for joy because I could escape, and for sorrow I must leave alone.”

Limerick Friday #644: The Halloween When Grier And The 'Fins Finally Turned Into A Pumpkin -- Day 2,050

Ineptitude year after year

With no vision or plan clear

Had pictures of Ross with a goat

So no one had a firing vote

Yet the 'Fins finally shitcanned Grier

State can't get a loan

From the poorhouse zone

Not rich enough to compete

Or football expectations to meet

Might need to run the wishbone

A pilot's never been more scary

Some secrets Stephen King can't bury

A massive plot twist

That everyone missed

High hopes for "Welcome to Derry"

Signs of life

Amid struggle and strife

Bitched the ATL

Though we're still in cap hell

And McDaniel lives under a knife

Accountability a concept foreign

Prepare the boos to keep pourin'

Determined to make this end badly

As Pack fans watch on sadly

Mediocrity, thy name is Doeren

Last time ...

Day 2,047, Quasi-Qaurantine: "Place Of Tides" Depicts A Dying Tradition Upheld By A Force Of Nature In Stunning Norway

“Ours is a dark and chaotic world. We are all in need of lights to follow.”

Rarely will you find a nonfiction book that touches you so deeply and achieves a sort of unexpected tenderness. "The Place of Tides" is that book.

“The island and the wild things are never fully known. There is no end to learning. Anna knows that, and, now, so do I. When we were young, the old folk seemed to know everything. I had imagined that there was a moment when you felt wise, that you had learnt it all. She looks over at me, smiling, as though she can hear the thought. We are all just children. We never know enough, not even the half of it.”

James Rebanks visits a harsh Norwegian archipelago to learn the ways of the "duck woman," but the author undergoes something of a spiritual transformation along the way. Living with Anna -- the duck woman -- and her friend Ingrid, Rebanks learns the ancient craft of tending to ducks and harvesting eider down in the midst of a beautiful, wild, and unforgiving landscape.

“And in this radically pared-back life, she had found peace and meaning. She was the waves, the light, and the terns rising and falling on the bay. She was them, and they were her.”

The work suffers a little bit in the lack of clarity surrounding the author's breakdown or midlife crisis, as well as the overall chronology of the story. It's also unclear whether Anna knew what Rebanks was after or why he was there -- a significant miss since it's kind of the foundation of the book.

“We cannot be what we are and what we aspire to be at the same time, something in us has to die for something else to be born.”

"The Place of Tides" sneaks up on you, contrasting the relentless nature of the modern world with a disappearing tradition in an environment under siege from man's thoughtlessness. Rebanks's adventure is a compelling story, his personal journey is a cautionary tale, and his portrait of Anna is enchanting and revealing.

“I had been searching for a hero, and I found what I’d thought was the most defiant person alive. But, instead of a superhero, I had become friends with an ordinary woman who had lived an extraordinary life.”

Limerick Friday #643: Teleport Us Out Of This Newscycle -- Day 2,043

Deep in fascism's throes

In the lowest of all the lows

But even for the world's worst grouse

Literally destroying the White House

Feels just way too on the nose

His ineptitude you have to applaud

As he drags down an entire squad

The broad side of a barn he couldn't hit

Just another MAGA piece of shit

Tua, the noodle-armed fraud

This is the bed we've made

Under Doeren for more than a decade

NC State Shit shall not pass

It's here to stay, alas

But at least we now have Will Wade

Four or five days a week

Youth soccer is not for the meek

But the smell of grass at dawn

I'll miss when it's gone

So excuse me if my eyes leak

Will we ever get to fall

It's still too warm, y'all

When will it be hoodie season

Will we ever have a reason

To wear cold-weather clothes at all?

Last time ...

Day 2,040, Quasi-Quarantine: "King Of Ashes" Feels Formulaic, But Delivers The Page-Turning Engagement It Promises

“‘Karma is what comes back to you for what you done. Getting what you deserve is just what finds you eventually,’ Dante said.”

S.A. Cosby has a Southern noir formula that works, as evidenced by his prolific output ("All The Sinners Bleed," "Razorblade Tears," "Blacktop Wasteland"). "King of Ashes" is his latest offering, and while it doesn't break a lot of new ground, it makes up for its limitations with another damn good story.

“A couple nights ago he’d been lying in bed next to a model whose claim to fame was being Ass Shaker #2 in an Usher video, and now he was bleeding on the floor of the building his father had built brick by agonizing brick.”

The Carruthers family has a lot of secrets, a built-in body-disappearer, and the bad luck to live in a small Virginia town with a murder rate seemingly near 100 percent. "King of Ashes" documents the slow-moving but systematic disintegration of that family, as the past and the present meet in horrifying and relentless ways.

“Roman was beginning to think the only difference between a tragedy and an opportunity was how much what was lost mattered.”

The novel doesn't require a whole lot of thought and features some significant plot holes, but makes it work on the power of a delightfully surprising revelation and the denial of a storybook ending. It's clear that Cosby has his very own genre -- and he isn't ready to give it up anytime soon.

“When they came for her this time, she’d scream like she did that night. A wild feral howl that asked an uncaring universe why this was happening. And the universe would do what it always did.”

Limerick Friday #642: A Hoosier Of A Whirlwind Time -- Day 2,036

Predictably, the Pack laid an egg

May be time to sweep Doeren's leg

The Colts salvaged the trip

Around Indiana did we rip

Now I need a couch and a keg

Above average, more or less

Though the luck's been a mess

Unlikely opponent games

From fucking no-names

That's fantasy football, I guess

What would make UNC more of a snake?

If they were on the Saudi take!

Who are they trying to fool?

A joke of a fucking school

And will always be a fraud and a fake

A key win to go to 4-2

A romp was good to see, true

Made some shrewd moves

Got the team in good grooves

Now the Scooters gotta see it through

Of regrets, I'd be remiss

And long would be that list

An ache bittersweet as persimmon

For all kinds of redheaded women

That I ain't supposed to kiss

Last time ...

Day 2,034, Quasi-Quarantine: Alternately Hysterical And Gut-Wrenching, "Vera, Or Faith" Explores The Collision Of Technology, Culture, And Politics

“She hated that happiness and sadness were always forming a pretzel.”

“A family is worth more than a country, isn’t it?”

The irrepressible Gary Shteyngart -- author of "Our Country Friends," among other works -- pulls zero punches in his latest novel, which takes on nativism, futurism, border repression, and other societal landmines. "Vera, or Faith" feels ripped from the headlines, while also feeling at least a little bit autobiographical.

“‘Make-work,’ Daddy called her homework, derisively, and it mostly was a continuation of the school day, the careful recording of numbers, letters, and concepts that would vaunt them into the appropriate high school, the appropriate college, and, for those whose families had recently arrived, into the ‘gleaming anus of late capitalist society’ (Daddy, of course, for which he was severely ‘censured’ by Anne Mom).”

The first three-quarters of this short book focus on inanity, irony, and pure humor to depict the life of 10-year-old Vera, her Russian immigrant father, her stepbrother, and her "Anne Mom." Her biological mother -- "Mom Mom" -- is a mysterious figure who eventually captivates precocious Vera's imagination, leading to a devastating conclusion.

“Anne Mom wanted a lot of structure, but Daddy said childhood ‘should just happen,’ like it had happened to him, and that until you went to grad school ‘nothing really mattered,’ it was all just a ‘neoliberal frog march of the damned.’”

Powered by a heart-breaking, clever, and emotional ending, "Vera, or Faith" is a shattering reminder that adolescence has never been more fraught, and contemporary politics has made heritage both dangerous and contextual.

Maybe, just maybe, it takes a Russian immigrant to write the ideal post-ICE-takeover novel. Shteyngart has made a compelling case for that here.

“‘I’m only ten,’ she repeated. It was what her mother wanted to hear and just maybe it was true.”

Limerick Friday #641: Off On A Midwest Football Weekend -- Day 2,030

Headed off to Indy

And climes more windy

To see the Colts game

And if State beats Notre Dame

I'll do a hotel-pool Triple Lindy

The Mets just choked

The 'Fins getting smoked

State missed a golden chance

Now all I've got are rants

Because every joke I've already joked

The state of the Scooters

Has me doing shooters

Rebuilding the roster

Tossing every impostor

'Til I wake up .500 in a Hooters

"Follow the herd" bitches

Got me rolling in stitches

Pissing their pants perceptibly

In fear of Belicheat pre-emptively

Now UNC is steering straight into ditches

Of sanity they're bereft

Of morality, there's no heft

A government with no frontal lobe

Got me looking at the globe

Wondering if there's anywhere free left

Last time ...

Day 2,028, Quasi-Quarantine: Subversive, Posthumous "Master And Margarita" Delivers Satanic, Supernatural Takedown Of Moscow

“‘Forgive me, but I don’t believe you,’ Woland replied, ‘that cannot be: manuscripts don’t burn.’”

Written over some dozen years and published more than a quarter-century after the author's death by his widow, "The Master and Margarita" documents a dizzying series of supernatural events taking place in Moscow and Jerusalem in linked timelines.

“And at midnight there came an apparition in hell. A handsome dark-eyed man with a dagger-like beard, in a tailcoat, stepped on to the veranda and cast a regal glance over his domain.”

Mikhail Bulgakov manages to mesh irony, satire, and humor while subtly criticizing Soviet society and its atheistic stance. He manages to cushion the blows of torture, disappearances, and corruption through fantastical analogies, underscoring the intersections of courage and cowardice along the way.

"The Master and Margarita" can be difficult to follow and challenging to read, as the devil and his retinue interact with and impact a seemingly endless number of "citizens." However, the effort is worth it, as Bulgakov has created a satirical masterpiece that still resonates today.

“Gods, my gods! How sad the evening earth! How mysterious the mists over the swamps! He who has wandered in these mists, he who has suffered much before death, who has flown over this earth bearing on himself too heavy a burden, knows it. The weary man knows it. And without regret he leaves the mists of the earth, its swamps and rivers, with a light heart he gives himself into the hands of death, knowing that she alone can bring him peace.”

Limerick Friday #640: Embarrassment Reigns Again In Queens For The No-Shame Mets -- Day 2,023

A collapse for the ages

Happened in stages

But we've seen it all before

It's part of Mets lore

You have to laugh through the rages

Usually enjoy the Ryder Cup

But the world's got me all shook up

Embarrassed to be American now

Always asking what, why, and how

So I definitely was rooting for Europe

The talent is beyond thin

Coach is a dead man walkin'

But fuck the Jets

So celebrate, let's

For our first (and maybe only) win

Break up the Big Four

They're frauds at the core

Play grabass at crunch time

Then choke when it's on the line

This is the Mets, less or more

The league logo should be a tool

Every goddam owner a fool

Offering asinine trades

Or reneging in spades

Guess I'll just take 'em all to school

Last time ...

Day 2,021, Quasi-Quarantine: "Down And Out In Paris And London" Is A Stark, Hysterical Memoir

 

“The Paris slums are a gathering-place for eccentric people – people who have fallen into solitary, half-mad grooves of life and given up trying to be normal or decent. Poverty frees them from ordinary standards of behaviour, just as money frees people from work.”

“There is only one way to make money at writing, and that is to marry a publisher’s daughter.”

The incomparable George Orwell shares experiences of living in poverty in two of the world's most renowned cities. Published in 1933, "Down and Out in Paris and London" serves as a fascinating social commentary on the contrasting perception of "tramping" and luxury. 

“It is curious how people take it for granted that they have a right to preach at you and pray over you as soon as your income falls below a certain level.”

“I believe that this instinct to perpetuate useless work is, at bottom, simply fear of the mob. The mob (the thought runs) are such low animals that they would be dangerous if they had leisure; it is safer to keep them too busy to think.”

The author's insights into the seedy underbellies of these hallowed places borders on the shocking. For the discerning reader, this account can be accurately described as the original "Kitchen Confidential."

“Roughly speaking, the more one pays for food, the more sweat and spittle one is obliged to eat with it.”

The memoir is tragic, hilarious, revelatory, and moving at various times. Even if this work serves more as a travel book, the seeds of "1984" and "Animal Farm" are apparent in Orwell's memorable observations and turns of phrase.

“Still I can point to one or two things I have definitely learned by being hard up. I shall never again think that all tramps are drunken scoundrels, nor expect a beggar to be grateful when I give him a penny, nor be surprised if men out of work lack energy, nor subscribe to the Salvation Army, nor pawn my clothes, nor refuse a handbill, nor enjoy a meal at a smart restaurant. That is a beginning.”

Day 2,013, Quasi-Quarantine: Kino Loy Has The Words We're All Trying To Find

Thank the maker for "Andor," for lo so many reasons.

Locate your inner rebel.

Find your alliance.

Limerick Friday #639: Once-Proud Franchise Continues Wandering In The Wilderness -- Day 2,009

Been listening to this same song

For entirely too goddam long

Another tank job from the 'Fins

I see it before it happens

But just once I'd like to be fucking wrong

A country in need of a vacation

Embracing fascism without hesitation

Every truth is a lie

That will make another person die

Welcome to Gaslight Nation

Often play lazy and dumb

The Mets make me crazy and numb

So rely on every rook

And let the phenoms cook

And hope it's enough to overcome

Keep running into buzzsaws

Now injuries without pause

A third of the roster hurt

Now pick ourselves up from the dirt

And break all the fantasy football laws

Find good where you can

Then get up and do it again

Overwhelming it can feel

That's part of the deal

Happy is possible now and then

Last time ...

Day 2,007, Quasi-Quarantine: Underdogs Try To Topple Rigged Entertainment Game In "Everybody Knows"

 

“This feeling washes over her, this soul-deep wish to just go back to when she could walk through this burning world without noticing it’s on fire.”

This entertaining tale is powered by rapid pacing and clipped sentences, as the seedy underbelly of Los Angeles is exposed block by block. "Everybody Knows" proceeds breakneck through the LA streets as every Hollywood sin joins the never-ending car chase.

“Everything is a sequel or a reboot or an adaptation. Everything is an echo of something else. It’s like her friend Sarah says about the Industry: Somebody somewhere catches lightning in a bottle – and all over town people run out and they buy bottles.”

Jordan Harper has created a noir feel that tries almost too hard to be noir. At times, Aaron Sorkin-level dialogue also serves to undercut the story arc. 

“No one asks if those things are true. No one cares. The only job is to disconnect power from responsibility.”

“‘I know who he is.’

‘You’ve got it wrong already. At a certain point people stop being a who and start being a why.’”

The result is an oppressively dark exploration of the unstoppable force of the bad and powerful, making this one truly a story for its time.

“Who doesn’t know their lives are built on top of bones? Who doesn’t carry inside them that it’s only brutal violence keeping this world afloat? Child slaves making our clothes, factory farms turning animals to slurry, nations of plastic floating in the ocean. Is she supposed to yank all that down too? Just her?”

Day 2,000, Quasi-Quarantine: "A Day In The Life Of Abed Salama" Is A Devastating Depiction Of Palestinian-Jewish Relations

“We do not see our hand in what happens, so we call certain events melancholy accidents when they are the inevitabilities of our projects, and we call other events necessities merely because we will not change our minds.”

~Stanley Cavell

At times heart-breaking and heart-warming, devastating and tender, "A Day in the Life of Abed Salama" bends all emotions to its will. Nathan Thrall's work is powered by meticulous research, well-rounded perspectives, and graceful storytelling.

The author manages to weave regional history and geopolitical discussion into a narrative about a horrific bus accident, the students who were lost, and the families who were reduced to rubble in the search to learn their fates. 

“‘You’ve turned our autonomy into a prison for us,’ the lead Palestinian negotiator, Abu Ala, said.”

The timely book is aided by a series of extremely useful maps as it seeks to create context for the fraught interactions and the whirlwind nature of life in contested territory.

"A Day in the Life of Abed Salama" unsparingly details the horrors of occupation, the casual cruelty of overt racism -- and the love it takes to manifest the determination needed to persist and exist in their faces.

Limerick Friday #638: Belicheat Embarrasses Every Chapel Shill -- Day 1,995

The bandwagon couldn't wait to applaud

And pretended to be suitably awed

The local media cupped his balls

Ignoring his cheating and falls

'Til they recognized a fellow fraud

Bobby Kennedy was a hero of mine

The most promising of his line

Now his son is killing kids

And selling out to the highest bids

Of American destruction, just the latest sign

Par for the course at UNC

Hoping to skip steps 1, 2, and 3

Tried to buy a culture and team

They've always been more "to seem"

Rather than "to be"

In football's return we bask

But so many questions to ask

Can the Wolfpack compete?

Can the Scooters repeat?

And how many issues can the 'Fins mask?

A heartless, creepy old man

Lies and deceives each spineless fan

On the young he preys

While every sycophant obeys

Trump or Belicheat -- decide if you can

Last time ...

Day 1,993, Quasi-Quarantine: "Never Flinch" Marks Yet Another Return Of Holly Gibney, The Character Stephen King Can't Quit

 

“She understands that extreme horror is, in its own way, merciful. It doesn’t allow you to look ahead to the end.”

Detective Holly Gibney is back yet again in Stephen King's "Never Flinch," as are the coincidences and cloud of trouble that perpetually surround her.

In this installment, the journeys of a serial killer and a stalker converge in Ohio, and Holly and her cast of familiars are squarely in the crosshairs. King makes use of contemporary storylines, his customary sublime character-building, and his trademark frantic pacing to make up for some required suspension of disbelief.

“Most days I’m like a one-legged woman in an ass-kicking contest.”

The Finders Keepers universe is at its best when Holly and her surrogate family -- Jerome, Barbara, and Pete -- align to solve otherworldly mysteries, but this one lacks the fantastical and the foursome spend most of their time on their own paths. The result is a fun read that lacks the depth and existential questions of previous efforts.

“He stepped over the line, and guess what? The other side of the line is no different. The idea is both terrible and comforting.”

Day 1,988, Quasi-Quarantine: The Pack Gets Off To A Positive Start Despite Uneven Effort

 

Staying almost impossibly on brand, the Wolfpack made things unnecessarily hard on themselves last night, outlasting East Carolina, 24-17, after opening up a 17-0 advantage.

Some thoughts:

• It's always good to go 1-0.
• In year 13, coach Dave Doeren is still abysmal at game management. Which -- judging by his title -- is a pretty big part of his job description.
• State's front seven is going to be pretty difficult to deal with.
• One game in, the Pack has serious concerns along the offensive line. Again.
• NC State should never play East Carolina. There is literally nothing to gain from this for the Red and White. Make it stop.

Onward. Go Pack.

Day 1,984, Quasi-Quarantine: "CivilWarLand In Bad Decline" Is The Promising But Immature Debut Of Notable Satirist

 

“How can you take the word of a man with biscuit crumbs under his nose and a habit of walking around holding his hand over his anus for fear of violation?”

Alternating between hilarious and unrelentingly depressing, "CivilWarLand in Bad Decline" marks the memorable debut of perhaps America's pre-eminent satirist, George Saunders.

“The moon comes up over Delectable Videos like a fat man withdrawing himself from a lake.”

The writer depicts a bleak future that features the uncanny valley of consumerism, relying on spineless main characters who see ghosts but exhibit little agency. "Isabelle" is dark but pretty, "400-Pound CEO" was cruel to the point of being difficult to read, and "The Wavemaker Falters" repeatedly withholds any chance of redemption.

“Family. It’s not perfect. Sometimes it’s damn hard. But I look after her and she squeals with delight when I come home, and the sum total of sadness in the world is less than it would have been.

“Her real name is Isabelle.

“A pretty, pretty name.”

"Offloading for Mrs. Schwartz" was my favorite, displaying a sly beauty that most of the other entries seem to lack, opting for cruelty for cruelty's sake instead. 

“Connie’s a prostitute, I’m a thirty-year-old virgin, but all things considered, we could have turned out worse.”

Saunders's work -- characteristic of many debuts -- is a little confusing and a lot depressing, creating space for him to find his true voice in future books like "Liberation Day," "A Swim in the Pond in the Rain," "Fox 8," and "Lincoln in the Bardo."

Nearly 30 years later, "CivilWarLand in Bad Decline" is demented, hysterical, and challenging -- if startlingly prescient.

“‘The writer can choose what he writes about,’ Flannery O’Connor once said, ‘but he cannot choose what he is able to make live.’”

Limerick Friday #637: Farewell To A True Blood -- Day 1,974

Had to swallow a tough pill

Struggling to understand it still

You looked out for the new kid

Saved my whole year, you did

Rest in peace, my friend Phil

Living in baseball hell

Turning every W into an L

Every move backfires

Turning contenders into liars

Will any Mets rise for that final bell?

Look for beauty in small things

And any happy tidings

They're there if you look

Sometimes in a book

And remember there are no kings

Getting punked day after day

Need any hope, just a ray

The coach is a lame duck

The GM is clueless as fuck

The 'Fins just can't find their way

It's that time of year

When the salt air feels near

Saying goodbye to summer

Is always a bummer

But the beach helps me hold back each tear

Last time ...

Day 1,971, Quasi-Quarantine: "On The Hippie Trail" Doubles As Coming-Of-Age Story For Naive, Budding Globetrotter

 

“Travelers learn that fear is for people who don’t get out much; that culture shock is the growing pains of that broadening perspective; that we’re all children of God – and that by traveling, we get to know the family.”

Some 45 years after the fact, Rick Steves has transcribed and edited the notes from his journey from Istanbul to Kathmandu. "On the Hippie Trail" documents the trials and tribulations of he and his friend Gene as as they travel thousands of miles overland.

Just 23 at the time, Steves's observations are often overly romanticized and/or immature. A mid-trip decision to go from spending as little as possible to treating themselves as well as possible goes unexplored, and a choice to mainly wear only one shirt and a pair of shorts for weeks and weeks also seems ... bizarre.

“The road to India is a long one. The pavement stops with Europe – but that’s where the drive becomes a ride animated by exciting potholes.”

Many of the observations have not aged well -- the author apparently shat in a ceremonial garden at one point -- and the sudden availability of plenty of money certainly represented a glossed-over departure.

In a post-script, Steves attributes the experience to leading him to become a travel writer. While the poignant moments are few and far between, "On the Hippie Trail" sheds light on a forgotten time when the world felt less dangerous and more like an amusement ride -- and how exploring it can inspire personal growth.

“Before he left, he told me, ‘A third of the people on this planet eat with spoons and forks like you, a third of the people eat with chopsticks, and a third of the people eat with their fingers like me … and we’re all civilized just the same.’”