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I read the headline in the newspaper three times, and still didn't understand it. I called the editor of the paper and asked him what the heck was the meaning of that particular headline; it seemed like gibberish to me.
he answered very smoothly: "that is our new streamlined approach to the news -- an algorithm picks out the words at random and we print them as such. our subscribers find it very engaging."
"it ain't engaging to me" I told him and hung up. then I poured myself a glass of buttermilk and read a paperback out in the backyard while dozens of Russian milkweed pods broadcast their divisive seeds across my lawn. a boy in a grey t-shirt and grey shorts, wearing black dress shoes, walked respectfully up to me and waited.
"want some buttermilk?" I asked him. "no thank you" he replied politely. "I am here at the instigation of the editor to bring you in."
"instigation?" I said. "that's a pretty big word for a mighty small boy." at that, he smiled. we became great friends for the afternoon, tossing a frisbee back and forth. but he still brought me in that evening, and now I may never escape this hellish job of stuffing Sunday supplements by hand each week.
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