A Taste

Because of Routergate, I will do a teeny bit of blogging from work today. For my co-worker readers, let's all pretend I am taking my lunch break early here. Not that she cares. Anyway, rather than write about Margaret B. Jones (nee Margaret Seltzer) myself, I think I will let Undercover Black Man occupy the field of criticism on this one. I will add this one thought, however: When I heard that her sister turned her in, I thought of Ted and David Kaczinski. I really hope my sister never does any wacko, high profile weird thing that causes me to narc on her. But I don't doubt she has the nerve to call it in on me. Which is a good thing. So, sister, I promise not to fake my memoir, or bomb anyone, or whatever, so you don't need to bring in the Feds, or my publisher, or the New York Times, or Mom, or whoever.