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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

With another Wednesday office visit under his belt, Ol’ Robbo is beginning to realize that he loathes the commute even more in its rarity than he did when it was the same ol’-same ol’.

I am still one of the only people in my office, and one of the few people on the Metro, not wearing a mask. From the looks and body language around me, I may as well be ringing a bell and wearing a sign that reads “Unclean”. It is not Ol’ Robbo’s general policy to make other people uncomfortable, but damme if I’m going to give in to the sheep on this one.

And speaking of pretend, I’m sure you friends of the decanter spotted the story yesterday about the California Appeals Court that ruled a bumblebee is a fish for purposes of environmental protection statutes? This is the kind of absurdity with which I am far more familiar, statutory interpretation on the basis of “what ought to be” instead of “what is”. (Perhaps needless to say, Ol’ Robbo himself is a strict constructionist and a believer in common sense.)

Still, I found myself laughing and thinking that if an expansive definition of “fish” is good enough for the idiot son of Addie Bundren in Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, then surely it’s good enough for the idiot judicial activists of California.

UPDATE: I forgot to mention that I also recalled the screams of outrage during the Reagan Years when the FDA (or somebody) tried to classify ketchup as a vegetable. This is, of course, different. Because shut up.


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June 2022