In which a veteran of cultural studies seminars in the 1990's moves into academic administration and finds himself a married suburban father of two. Foucault, plus lawn care. For private comments, I can be reached at deandad at gmail dot com. The opinions expressed here are my own and not those of my employer.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Three Words That Strike Terror in my Heart
"Dogpile on Daddy!"
I swear The Boy is made of lead.
It's okay, I didn't need those vertebrae anyway...