Prose

Colette

By leaning over the garden wall, I could scratch with my finger the poultry-house roof. The Upper Garden overlooked the Lower Garden - a warm, confined enclosure reserved for the cultivation of augergines and pimentos - where the smell of tomato leaves mingled in July with that of the apricots ripening on the walls. In the Upper Garden were two twin firs, a walnut-tree whose intolerant shade killed any flowers beneath it, some rose-bushes, a neglected lawn and a dilapidated arbour.

Read more about Colette>
Tags: 

Power to the Sheeple

It's always been a conundrum to me that the same people who talk about "power to the people," tend to refer to people who follow a different leader as "sheeple." Has to be the word I love most to hate. I don't interact with enough conservative points of view to know if they use it on a regular basis, but I do hear it all too often from my leftie co-conspirators, and whenever possible I call them on it. Like "Hitler," it's one of those words that tells me I will find little beyond this point to interest me. Read more about Power to the Sheeple

Tags: