...it's like a merry-go-round

I told a student this past spring that rhyme was killing his poetry. Really...it was. It had a fucking death grip on it, loosened only by my persistent pleadings and said student's eventual (though reluctant) faith that a) I had a clue and b) that his poems would survive without. Anyhow, summer is killing my blog. I (almost) daily think of posts that someone may give a damn about--or that at least I give a damn about--but then it's summer and...Anyway, a few weeks ago Miss Conduct (this Dear Abby-type etiquette writer for the Boston Globe Sunday Mag) wrote a piece of shit response to a woman complaining about her co-worker's bottled breast milk in the company fridge. See my earlier post. It seems I am not in the minority. See the letters section of today's mag. Read to the end to see her worthless, insufficient response to the outrage.