This morning, walked past two guys, shirtless, standing absolutely still on the edge of the creek, fishing rods in hand (no, that is not a euphemism). Not something you see every day.

This afternoon, read Frederick the Great's vituperous, though elegant, attack on Machiavelli. It was, apparently, proof-read by Voltaire. You'd think he could have ironed out some of the petulant arguments. So much of it reads as: "I'm going to be a prince, and we're good, yes we are!" Should I use it in my essay, the author will be referred to as Freddy.