Spent yesterday pub-crawling with L., who stands to become my drinking-personal-trainer if she isn't careful. She's off to the middle West to deal with family tragedy.
We talked about a number of things, but something there reminded me of this from Le Ton Beau de Marot. So this is a copied bit of that, for you L:
... In other words, E = mc2. And who was it that dreamed up this stunning talekennish likeness? Although Andreson names no names in his work, we all call back to our minds that it was Albert One Stone, that mightily wideknown but soft-spoken worldkenseeker.
( Collapse ) New Town's old laws were thus shoved to the side and flung in the bin of "once right as right can be, and still kind of right, but now a bit less right".
By the way, I wrote that long chunk (and this short chunk) while tied by two tight ropes at once: first of all, I used but words that have no truck with tongues that folks in old Greece and Rome once spoke, way back when, in days long gone; on top of that, all words I used have but one speech bite each. And this is why one might say, as a bit of a joke yet for that no less in truth, that I have here killed two birds with One Stone.