These Rubber Bands Are Killing Me

Looking at recent news headlines I'm becoming fearful that we may have started to wear out our welcome on this planet. 

Just in these United States in the last ten days we've had stories about snow and ice in (over) abundance in places that have four seasons though not as intensely as they're having this current winter resulting in some testy exchanges among us, measurable snow in the Sahara (sorry, Sting), as well as forest fires, torrential rains and mud slides in California. Not sure we're the ones to call anywhere else a shithole.

Not so coincidentally because it's Friday (though Sister Mary Jean would be pleased I remembered and made that reference) here's some news from Switzerland from earlier this week which probably didn't cross your radar and may remind you of the ancient theologians' worries about angels, dance routines and pins.

I'm still stuck on the word decapod but have been ever since seeing Moana's Tamatoa (and would undoubtedly go broke just trying to pay for the butter). The finer points and nuances raised within the story are not lost on me. If you're the proud possessor of an over-sized bib with your initials on the pocket, this might be the moment to take a moment and reconsider your eating habits. 

Or not. You'll hear no judgments from me. I'm still wondering how hungry the first person to ever eat lobster had to be to come up with that idea in the first place. 
-bill kenny