Americana

I met up with a friend for coffee last night. Eventually.

We decided to meet about halfway, in Centreville. Neither of us know Centreville super well, so I suggested we meet at the Starbucks that's in the strip mall that also includes a Giant. I got there first, so I sat and read a novel while I waited. After awhile, my friend called. "I'm a little worried about you!" she said. She was at the OTHER Starbucks by a Giant in Centreville, you see. Because there couldn't be just one.

I saw an essay online yesterday that I couldn't believe. It's the most Onionesque thing I've ever read in Newsweek. I know that people -- and lots of people around here, probably many of you, dear readers -- share this writer's opinion. It's not her opinion that floors me, though it's not one I subscribe to.* It's her opinion of the folks who don't share her opinion. I could go on and on about this, but ... judge for yourself. The good editors didn't do the author any favors with their incendiary headlines, but her words pretty much speak for themselves, regardless.

Oh, and by special request -- a link to my future neighbors. Perhaps you've met them?

* I'll be honest, though I might be letting myself in for many impassioned lectures by doing so: I frankly don't care how God went about making stuff. So, yes, I'm a Creationist, but I'll leave the machinery of it to Him. If we could prove one thing or another, there'd be no debate. So -- what's the point of the debate, frankly? Not that all debates are pointless. I just don't see the point of this one. Sorry if my intentional ambiguity annoys you.