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Carson Holloway writes on Tiger Woods and Plato.

I don’t know if Mr. FLG cares about golf or celebrities very much, but I do know he likes him some Plato.

Yes, the calendar says it’s Monday, but my brain hasn’t got the memo yet.

♦  Well, in the latest Storm of the Century of the Week, my part of the Dee Cee ‘burbs got maybe 4 or 5 inches of snow on Saturday.  This is, in my opinion, a perfect amount.  Just enough to be pretty, not too much to be more than a minor nuisance to shovel out.

♦   Also over the weekend, Mrs. R was assimilated into the FaceBorg collective.  For myself, I’ve decided that regardless of whatever other arguments can be made for or against it, in the end I refuse to join any organization that employs the word “friend” as a verb.

♦   Speaking of technology, here’s an odd thing.  Last evening I was idly flipping around teevee channels – having become bored stiff with the Pro Bowl after about ten minutes – when I came across a rerun of the old Bob Newhart series from the early 80’s.  And what with digital high-def and all, I noticed something for the first time:  The film of the Vermont inn that accompanies the closing credits includes a couple of trees in the right foreground that have been superimposed on the original picture.  Either that or there is a small but extremely active geological fault line running through the inn’s front yard.

♦   Speaking of activity, the gels and I got up an impromptu exercise competition yesterday afternoon.  While I had no chance against any of them in the hula-hoop event, I was able to make up for it by crushing them in the push-up and side-plank, so I guess we’re about even.  Pretty sore today, though.

♦  And speaking of the gels, the eight year old has taken to calling me “Dah-TEE”.  She knows this irritates me, the little whippersnapper.  Has anyone got a tall tower in which I could lock her for the next thirty years or so?

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