Mrs. Dalloway's Coffee Break

I recently posted on my Instagram page a series of pictures of making a huge batch of cabbage rolls, a traditional Finnish delicacy, and was happy to realize the rather time-consuming, handicraft dish has lost the bad rep it had when I was a kid hating the horrible cabbage smell and reluctantly picking at the one sad, solitary roll on my plate before tiring out my parents and being excused from the table. Now, people were thrilled to see me make them, and if Instagram was a delivery service, I wouldn’t have had any left by the time we were done making them. And I don’t blame ‘em: in the mouth of a grownup, they do taste delicious, like home, like our childhoods; like it took three to four hours to make them, including the trip to the store in the middle of the preparation process, because I was being lavish with the stuffing and ran out of it during the first oven sheet, and father was like “I’ll go, I’ll go right away!” and me and my mother were like “Great, we’ll just hang

I mean what respectable man doesn’t have a few skeletons in the closet? These – females, these – women , they are all just dumb sumbitches, aren’t they? I mean I will be here till the end of time, and am right to be here, just like there are righteous, good men in the Klan, and these righteous, God-fearing good white men are right to fight for their power! I mean our job is to oversee the goings-on of the land of our fathers, and make sure it doesn’t accidentally fall prey to a bunch of ninnies and cry-babies and lesbians. Emphasis on the job, Lizzie. I mean it isn’t proper, it just is not proper for some insufferable cunt to appear out of nowhere to start laying these accusations so thick a man can’t breathe. She reduced ole Biffy-boy here to tears. To tears ! And now, let’s examine the situation with a cool head, since I am the best and most level-headed man I know to examine the situation, and no Federal investigation should really be needed here, come on now! I

A friend of mine started a challenge on Instagram. It has to do with our everyday green acts, the little things we can all do and should do to ease the burden of this pretty plane of ours so that our legacy to the next generations won’t be a re-enactment of the Nebuchadnezzar ride outside the Matrix. An old workmate of mine, back from when I was working in another town, was, and still is, an eco-terrorist, as he himself liked to describe himself back then, and concern over ecological matters was a mutual thing for us. Nearing some election or another, when discussing parties and who to vote, I still remember what he said in the conversation as we were all hanging out behind the counter because of the five p.m. lull. “The thing is, if the planet goes, no one is going to be left standing to argue with anybody about anything.” For some reason, perhaps because we both tend to vote for the same party, the line has stuck with me, and there may have even been an occasion where I myself