I was planning on writing something with some intellectual heft this week. Perhaps a response to Johns Bolton and Yoo’s ridiculous Op-Ed about defending America’s national security interests in outer space.
Then I was afflicted with the above illness. So instead you get Ogden Nash on my condition.
The Common Cold
Go hang yourself, you old M.D!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
In not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.