That Time Of Year

My wife just gave me a bunch of ideas for the Christmas letter, so I decided to ignore them and write a blog post instead.

I hear I have a few new readers in Portland.  My daughter told some of her fellow grad students about my blog.  I strongly advise them to stick with their textbooks.  You’ll find them wittier.

No, I still have not gotten used to the idea of President Trump.  I can only hope he screws something up so bad, without anyone dying, that they must get rid of him.  Given his lack of impulse control, that is a distinct possibility. Right now, he is in a Twitter war with SNL as well as going off script in calls with Pakistan, Taiwan and The Philippines. He’s a menace.  How the hell did this happen again?  Maybe I’ll throw myself into my work for the next four years to distract myself.  There’s a first time for everything.

On the bright side, Scott and Kourtney are back together.

We had dinner with Unc and wife last night at Iberia in Belmont.  We had been there many years ago, when it was in Portola Valley.  It was excellent.  We started with four tapas and then moved onto a paella.  The wife made a crack that it was not crunchy.  Almost 30 years ago, I attempted a paella.  Partially cooked rice is crunchy.  We also discussed a summer trip for the four of us to Portugal and Spain.  I have to decide if I want to spend a few days in August in Seville or just dispense with the trip and spend a few days in the steam room at the club.  Oh, I kid.  I’ll just take a siesta like the locals.  I realize they are only proposing we join them so I can act as translator.  It hurts to be used.

I’ll close with Cosmo’s latest cover.  I find it irresponsible.  If this 59-year-old suburbanite’s sex got any sexier, his head would blow up.