Wednesday, January 16, 2019

A picture


I'm surprised by so little of what he does.  He's just a con man.  And he looks so little to actually serve.  He can't even spring for steak, or some decent meal.  It should be a special moment for the kids, and he can't even dip a pinky into the well of empathy to cater to that.

Just garbage.

Sunday, January 06, 2019

A Lie

I don't know if I've ever told you people this, but my Dad could recite Pi to the 9,400th digit.  For years, we didn't know that those numbers he was spouting off, usually while staring into a carton of Mayfield's Vanilla Bean ice cream, were indeed the ratio of a circle's diameter to its circumference.

It made cleaning the kitchen after dinner a troublesome proposition, because he'd usually just stand there, carton in hand while it melted into slush, reciting off number after number.

We didn't figure out until after his death that he was wishing for pie to go with his ice cream, and he was merely suffering from a mental typographical error.

It's easy to understand, because most pie, indeed, are round.