Here is a piece of writing that has attained a certain length—a form that you can read, secure in the knowledge that someone did a lot of typing, and that you are doing a lot of reading. Everyone recognizes that there is virtue, or an approximation of virtue, in doing a lot of reading. Share it, this quantity of reading.
On Smarm by Tom Scocca
I am thinking so many thoughts about this smarm article. Also I think this excerpt is pretty true.
I never knew I could actually write a paper that I was very proud of and thought was written very well before this class.
In the country of Doctor Who, a program that celebrates its 50th anniversary this month, Poirot’s 25 years can feel paltry. But for all of the Doctor’s famed longevity, his longest-lived incarnation lasted only seven seasons — a long time to be sure, but nothing like Suchet’s quarter century. Only James Arness and Milburn Stone, who played Dodge City’s marshal and doctor, respectively, during Gunsmoke’s two decades, rival Suchet’s run. For the past 25 years, viewers have watched an actor and character grow and change together, episode by episode, year by year: a time-lapse detective. The slow thin of his mustache, the growth of his ponderous belly, the accumulation of papery lines at the corners of his eyes has been nothing short of astonishing.
So legit lucky to get to write so much about something I so love. Poirot, Poirot, Poirot, I will miss you.
Look, if you want to catch the fucker, me and the sis can go skating tonight and call you if we see anything…Alrighty, keep yer tits high and dry, bitch. We’ll catch the bas-turd. Peace!” and she slams the receiver down. “She’s fucking brain dead,” Mary says, and I giggle again, nodding. But I’m not really agreeing with Mary’s assessment of her friend; it’s the word “sis” that sends me into giggles, because “sis” is me. This summer I will have a sister.