Saturday, December 31, 2016

Sinners in the Hands of an Indifferent God | National Review

How dieth the wise man? As the fool.

But there is work to be done, and champagne to be had (in moderation — we resolve to amend our ways), and even though everybody — everybody — knows that everybody — everybody — at every — every — New Year’s Eve party is only pretending to enjoy himself, we observe the proper offices and come together in our little pools of light in the brumal darkness. And we may even raise a glass to the god of passing time, who is there, too. He is not unwelcome. He does not wish us ill. He does not wish us anything at all.


And a happy new year to you, too.

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HNY to you and yours, Smudger. Lang may yer lum reek.

Posted by: dearieme | Dec 31, 2016 1:17:38 PM

Back atcha, dearime.

Posted by: tom smith | Dec 31, 2016 1:42:02 PM