Because I feel more comfortable being a total geek here than I do elsewhere.

First things first; a researcher has been able to prove that the Persian silks found in the Oseberg hoard/stash thing were acquired through trade from, well, Persia, and that they weren’t just scavenged from Ireland. (Also, I went to find the link, but got distracted; maybe I just made it up. But if I didn’t, I’ve been telling you guys! Everybody went everywhere. Trade is the real story of history.) (Okay, found it. . I been tellin’ ya.)

Second; Man, I’m going to fail at xmas this year. I feel blocked, or something. Plus, I’m tired of arranging playdates for my ex. If he wants to see his daughter, he can figure it out. Okay, maybe I’m a little angry there. Huh.

Third; I have spared you the Melville, but that’s over.

Nor was Stubb the only banqueter on whale’s flesh that night. Mingling their mumblings with his own mastications, thousands on thousands of sharks, swarming round the dead leviathan, smackingly feasted on its fatness. The few sleepers below in their bunks were often startled by the sharp slapping of their tails against the hull, within a few inches of the sleepers’ hearts.

Come on, gang. “Mingling their mumblings with his own mastications…” How can you not? “Smackingly feasted on its fatness.” Say it with me!


Back when our planet was habitable.