A Community Is A Butcher And A

I Prefer Dead Writers Because You Don't Run Into Them At Parties.

To Put It Rather Bluntly, I Am Not The Type Who Wants To Go Back To The Land; I Am The Type Who Wants To Go Back To The Hotel.

What Do They Do In These [private] Clubs, Anyway? Sit Around Saying Things Like 'thank God I'm Here. No Jews! What Fun! This Is Living, Huh? Look! No Jews! I Don't Know When I've Had A Better Time. And No Women! Just Men! And No Blacks! Just Whites! White Men! White Men Who Are Not Jewish! It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This.' To Some People, Apparently, This Is A Perfect Description Of Injustice. To Me, This Is A Perfect Description Of A Gay Bar In Iceland.

I Woke Up At Five O'clock In The Morning With The Whole First Paragraph In My Head. Now, This Just Shows What A Slothful Person I Am: I Tried To Go Back To Sleep.

I Must Take Issue With The Term 'a Mere Child,' For It Has Been My Invariable Experience That The Company Of A Mere Child Is Infinitely Preferable To That Of A Mere Adult.