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markscarbrough.bsky.social
Cookbook author. Pod: Cooking With Bruce & Mark. Former lit prof. Pod: Walking With Dante. Lots of lit seminars, book discussions, & poetry discussions at New England libraries. Recovering evangelical. Married to the best guy. Owned by a collie.
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Can't believe I'd never noticed Minos as hell's sentencer lurking at the bottom of Michaelangelo's Last Judgement. Many thanks to @markscarbrough.bsky.social's wonderful Walking With Dante podcast for that detail.

I grew up in Texas, where they had cowboys, who liked to smoke, and I don’t remember anyone who had lung cancer.

Dear Leader Schumer: Kindly fuck off.

W. T. F.

May I live to see Doogie Himmler before the court in The Hague.

Never wanted to live to see it, yet here we are.

Yep. Now do thalidomide.

Beyond imagination, not the immorality of these fools, but their rank amorality.

I mean, fer corn’s sake. Sir, how are you so orange and vibrant?

Not exactly a condemnation. Just a narcissistic whine.

This is the end goal: global belligerence. This is why they’re intent on reshoring manufacturing. Global trade has kept war to regional (if horrific) conflicts. Without global trade, let the bombs fall.

Like talking to a helium balloon. Floats away on inert gas.

Yes, that “other power.” I wonder what he means.

I can’t believe we got here. But then I think about teaching Toni Morrison and Louise Erdrich in college intro lit in 1990 and the raving mad undergrads I faced … and I can believe we got here.

Not immoral. Amoral. Without a moral compass. Lacking even the will to discover that compass that makes us profoundly human.

The beginning of perhaps my two favorite cantos in Dante’s COMEDY. More than halfway up Mount Purgatory, a most astonishing thing happens: the borders of what’s good and bad change. Because love always moves the fence. player.captivate.fm/episode/f50d...

Lincoln Center. Ibsen. Ghosts. A comedy, right?

Heroin and brain worms are a dangerous mix.

Truly excessive.

Call me crazy—and I only work in publishing—but I want editors, publishers, marketers, and others around me who don’t agree with me. I’d think I’d want the same as, oh, the commander in chief.

April is the cruelest month in New England … because the canned and preserved things are running very thin. Come on, summer.

This can stop … anytime.

Okay, sure, a little virtue signaling: so very glad I trashed my thirty-year sub to this rag after the fake email-lady story. Never looked back. And don’t need to. $40K gym memberships, my ass.

100 years. And a murderous, fun-loving, still exists.

There is no end to the idiocy.

April 9, 1865. One hundred and sixty years ago today, the traitor Lee surrendered. I’m sure glad we put that behind us.