Head in the Sand

AOL just bought the Huffington Post for $315 million.  That puts the value of my blog at $3,150 or so. We can haggle.  But like Adrianna, I would still be chief editor and draw a tidy salary if I sell.  I could begin to recoup some of my expenses from the past year.

I may have undervalued my work, though.  I have no head for this.

I am like a child who does not want to go to school today, who wants to stay home with his things rather than face the schoolyard bully.  It is the roughness of the other that makes home so nice.  Having made mistakes, I am vulnerable.  I'm hoping they are not fatal.  And so I'd rather stay on the sofa and hide my head, death smell and all.

Though the death smell was mitigated last night by cooking dinner for my mother.  By the time she got here, the stench was smothered.  I sat her up with a tray in front of the giant television that she bought me--and put on the Super Bowl.  Oh, there is nothing my mother loves more than football.  She tells me that when I have it on she watches the clock in the upper left hand corner of the screen to see how much longer it will last.  She's had to put up with it a lifetime and still has no idea what is going on.  I'll say, "Oh, what a play," and she'll say, "Really?"  So we talked through the game and watched the commercials.  Good old mom.

And here is an aside.  Suddenly everyone I know has something to say about Egypt.  I hadn't known they'd been secret Egyptologists all this time.  They tell me about the culture, the religion, the politics, but they never mention Cleopatra let alone Tut.  They inform me about Turkey (I didn't know they were so expert on Turkey, either) and pontificate on the perils in Israel.  I tell them that you can't just treat people like shit forever. The accumulation of wealth in the hands of a few always leads to revolution.  Greed is bad for everyone.  Read Faulkner.  He gives a blueprint for all that.  Tell me, is there an Egyptian Faulkner?  There will lay the keys to understanding.  Violence and Greed.  The rich are smug until they are on the wrong end of the gun.  Suddenly they enjoy the idea of negotiation.  "Wait a minute, let's talk.  I didn't realize. . . ."

At least that's how it works elsewhere or I'm no Adrianna Huffington.