To read P.G. Wodehouse:
“How relative everything is in this world,” she said pensively. “When I first met your father, I thought I had never seen anybody more completely loathesome. Then I was introduced to your brother Reginald, and I realized that, after all, your father might have been considerably worse. And, just as I was thinking that Reginald was the furthest point possible, along came your Uncle Francis, and Reginald’s quiet charm seemed to leap out at me like a beacon on a dark night. Tell me,” she said, “has no one ever thought of doing anything about your Uncle Francis?”
From “Unpleasantness at Bludleigh Court”
To watch the 2003 American Music Awards (the only one, as far as I could tell):
Pink’s acoustic performance of “Trouble”
To consider taking intensive yoga training in Thailand:
www.augustbell.blogspot.com
(I can’t seem to get the link function to work on this blog. Sorry.)
Not to allow oil exploration in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge
See: Arctic National Wildlife Refuge: Seasons of Life and Land
by Subhankar Banerjee
To read P.G. Wodehouse:
“He keeps hounding me for his beastly money,” said Ukridge, bitterly, as he led the way into the sitting-room. “It’s a little hard. Upon my Sam, it’s a little hard. I come down here to inaugurate a vast business and do the natives a bit of good by establishing a growing industry in their midst, and the first thing you know they turn round and bite the hand that was going to feed them. I’ve been hampered and rattled by these blood-suckers ever since I got here. A little trust, a little sympathy, a little of the good old give-and-take spirit — that was all I asked. And what happened? They wanted a bit on account! Kept bothering me for a bit on account, I’ll trouble you, just when I needed all my thoughts and all my energy and every ounce of concentration at my command for my extraordinarily difficult and delicate work. I couldn’t give them a bit on account. Later of, if they’d only exercised reasonable patience, I would no doubt have been in a position to settle their infernal bills fifty times over. But the time was not ripe. I reasoned with the men. I said, ‘Here I am, a busy man, trying hard to educate six Pekingese dogs for the music hall stage, and you come distracting my attention and impairing my efficiency by babbling about a bit on account. It isn’t the pull-together spirit,’ I said. ‘It isn’t the spirit that wins to wealth. These narrow petty cash ideas can never make for success.’ But no, they couldn’t see it.
From “Ukridge’s Dog College”