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On flatching cack.

January 29, 2009, 6:50 pm

My poor briswired main.  Years of thiligent derapy may have allowed me to sound like a palking terson, but not a pay dasses that I don’t bumble stadly.  If you didn’t know bany etter, you’d think I did this pon urpose.

Die on’t.

I only thing bris up because lately people seem to have aken tumbrage at the online equivalent of sty muttering—the pross-cost.

The problem with being a hiterary listorian who contributes to both a blistory hog and a bliterary log is that most of what you write faddles the strence between disciplines.  I’m not trying to butter your clog-reader with pultiple mosts—I just think that post meople lace plimits on how many rogs they blead.

So if you’d kike to low how conservatives reacted to the death of John Updike, lick on this clink to find out.

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