I Loathe Writing. On The Other Hand

There Are Nineteen Words In Yiddish That Convey Gradations Of Disparagement, From A Mild, Fluttery Helplessness To A State Of Downright, Irreconcilable Brutishness. All Of Them Can Be Usefully Employed To Pinpoint The Kind Of Individuals I Write About.

One Stifling Summer Afternoon Last August, In The Attic Of A Tiny Stone House In Pennsylvania, I Made A Most Interesting Discovery: The Shortest, Cheapest Method Of Inducing A Nervous Breakdown Ever Perfected. In This Technique..., The Subject Is Placed In A Sharply Sloping Attic Heated To 340 F And Given A Mothproof Closet Known As The Jiffy-cloz To Assemble.

English Life, While Very Pleasant, Is Rather Bland. I Expected Kindness And Gentility And I Found It, But There Is Such A Thing As Too Much Couth.

A Farm Is An Irregular Patch Of Nettles Bounded By Short-term Notes, Containing A Fool And His Wife Who Didn't Know Enough To Stay In The City.

There Is Something About A Home Aquarium Which Sets My Teeth On Edge The Moment I See It. Why Anyone Would Want To Live With A Small Container Of Stagnant Water Populated By A Half-dead Guppy Is Beyond Me.