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We Stand There, Quiet. My Questions All Seem Wrong: How Did You Get So Old? Was It All At Once, In A Day, Or Did You Peter Out Bit By Bit? When Did You Stop Having Parties? Did Everyone Else Get Old Too, Or Was It Just You? Are Other People Still Here, Hiding In The Palm Trees Or Holding Their Breath Underwater? When Did You Last Swim Your Laps? Do Your Bones Hurt? Did You Know This Was Coming And Hide That You Knew, Or Did It Ambush You From Behind?

Kissing Mother Superior, Incompetent, Hairball, Poppy Seeds, On The Can.

If I Had A View Like This To Look Down On Every Day, I Would Have The Energy And Inspiration To Conquer The World. The Trouble Is, When You Most Need Such A View, No One Gives It To You.

Even The Financial Disclosure Statements That Political Bloggers Were Required To Post Hadn't Stemmed The Suspicion That People's Opinions Weren't Really Their Own. "who's Paying You?" Was A Retort That Might Follow Any Bout Of Enthusiasm, Along With Laughter - Who Would Let Themselves Be Bought?

Vinegar: That's What Fear Smells Like.