Mister Fweem's Blog: Diagnosis: Mount Hebron DEAD from de Snappy and de Peppy

Friday, October 20, 2017

When you get and send a bunch of emails at work because you asked your wife for something on your desktop at home and your desktop is dying.

Read in 2024

92 Stories, by James Thurber. 522 pages.
A Rat's Tale, by Tor Seidler. 187 pages.
Blue Lotus, The, by Herge. 62 pages.
Book Thief, The; by Markus Zusack. 571 pages.
Born Standing Up, by Steve Martin. 209 pages.
Captain Bonneville's County, by Edith Haroldsen Lovell. 286 pages.
Case of the Condemned Cat, The; by E. W. Hildick. 138 pages.
Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi. 296 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Big Shot, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Edward R. Murrow and the Birth of Broadcast Journalism, by Bob Edwards. 174 pages.
Exploring Idaho's Past, by Jennie Rawlins. 166 pages.
Forgotten 500, The; by Gregory A. Freeman. 313 pages.
I Must Say: My Life as A Humble Comedy Legend, by Martin Short and David Kamp; 321 pages.
Joachim a des Ennuis, by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
Le petit Nicolas et des Copains, by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
Moon Shot: The Inside Story of America's Race to the Moon, by Alan Shepard and Deke Slayton; 383 pages.
Number Go Up, by Zeke Faux. 280 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade: The 1960s, by Charles Schulz. 530 pages.
Red Rackham's Treasure, by Herge. 62 pages.
Secret of the Unicorn, The; by Herge. 62 pages.
Sonderberg Case, The; by Elie Wiesel. 178 pages.
Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, by David Sedaris. 159 pages.
Stranger, The; by Albert Camus. 155 pages.
Tintin in Tibet, by Herge. 62 pages.
Truckers, by Terry Pratchett. 271 pages.
Vacances du petit Nicolas, Les; by J.J. Sempe and Rene Goscinny, 192 pages.
World According to Mister Rogers, The; by Fred Rogers. 197 pages.
Ze Page Total: 6,381.

The Best Part

Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi

“Pete,” said Mr. Ordson, “we live in a time of great mistrust. This is not always a bad thing. People should question things. However, in my experience, too much suspicion undermines reason.” I shook my head, only to remember he couldn’t see me. “There’s a big difference,” he went on, “between suspicion and paranoia.” “What’s . . . paranoia?” “An unreasonable beliefe that you are being persecuted. For example,” Mr. Ordson went on,” I’m willing to guess you’ve even considered me to be the informer. After all, you told me you were going to follow your father. Perhaps I told the FBI.” Startled, I stared at him. His blank eyes showed nothing. Neither did his expression. It was as if he had his mask on again. “Have you considered that?” he pushed. “No,” I said. But his question made me realize how much I’d shared with him. Trusted him. How he’d become my only friend. And he was the only one I hoad told I was going to follow my dad. Maybe he did tell the FBI. He said, “I hope you get my point.” Silcence settled around us. Loki looked around, puzzled. Mr. Ordson must have sensed what I was thinking because he said, “Now, Pete, you don’t really have any qualms about me, do you?”

Yes, perlious times then. Who to trust? And perlious times now, with paranoia running even deeper than during the Red Scare . . .

Friday, October 20, 2017

Diagnosis: Mount Hebron DEAD from de Snappy and de Peppy

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