Who gives a shit about Ike Turner, Terry Pratchett’s still with us. But that sound you heard this morning was me going Aaaa-OOOOOOOH!!! Oh yes. Multiple exclamation points. I believe that in this case, multiples are called for.
True story: After I read Monstrous Regiment, I realized I could occupy myself at game conferences, interminable meetings, and podcasts by imagining the sort of socks the speaker had. Tennis anklets with little pom pom balls on them came up a really disturbing amount of the time. (Do they still make those?) One person, who thinks he is The Man but I generally question whether or not he is even *a* man, given his propensity for whining, totally has gold toe space age fiber wicking action socks with padded heels and reinforced arches. And when I’m feeling generous, I kind of want to say, listen, they’re just socks. You don’t have to prove anything. You could probably just have cotton crew socks. They’d be just as comfortable and you’d worry less about losing them, or having people laugh as soon as you walk away.
Unfortunately, these days I’m usually feeling a touch petty (not knowing where I’m going to live in sixty-eight days will do that), and I snicker a bit at what a small little package these supposed socks of the future are when they’re rolled up.
For the record, I have black cotton socks with little red Scottie dogs knitted in. No idea what that MEANS, really.
Christopher Walken: Say something dirty.
(pause)
Lindsay Crouse: Socks!
[...] Terry Pratchett, author of the Discworld series, has anounced that he has a rare form of early-onset Alzheimer’s. (Via Eating Bees.) [...]
All he needs to do is start eating Advil and Asprin like candy.
Seriously it works.
Its beyond me why in the face of certain dementia people decide a healthy stomch is most important.
The footnotes of footnotes must go on. May his health sustain him for many more such mindcandy delights.