Cake Is Not The Issue Here.

History Isn't Like That. History Unravels Gently, Like An Old Sweater. It Has Been Patched And Darned Many Times, Reknitted To Suit Different People, Shoved In A Box Under The Sink Of Censorship To Be Cut Up For The Dusters Of Propaganda, Yet It Always - Eventually - Manages To Spring Back Into Its Old Familar Shape. History Has A Habit Of Changing The People Who Think They Are Changing It. History Always Has A Few Tricks Up Its Frayed Sleeve. It's Been Around A Long Time.

I Once Absent-mindedly Ordered Three Mile Island Dressing In A Restaurant And, With Great Presence Of Mind, They Brought Thousand Island Dressing And A Bottle Of Chili Sauce.

Nothing But Dust And Fundamentalists.

The Girls Were Expected To Grow Up To Be Somebody's Wife. They Were Also Expected To Read And Write, Those Being Considered Soft Indoor Jobs That Were Too Fiddly For The Boys.

Even The Blind And Meek And Voiceless Have Gods.