Hm. Rough seas ahead. Texus Maximus has fleas again, nobody who served the Dark Lord on Discovery/U.S. Postal made the U.S. Olympic road/TT team, and the 40th anniversary of Watergate is upon us. Down ’scope, rig for silent running.
Christ, it’s been a long week. Deadlines and related editorial chores out the wazoo, the basement remains very much a work in progress, and we’re slowly furnishing, piece by piece, our second house back East (east of our driveway, that is).
Planning a visit to our scenic dingbatopolis? Forget that seedy Motel 6, folks, we have substandard accommodations for you right here, the Robert A. Heinlein Memorial Crooked House®, with all the comforts of home — a table, a chair, a bed, and crazy drunkards with guns right next door. There’s even beer in the ’fridge. We’ll leave the light on for you.