In praise of nipples

I'll jet for a fortnight

I'm going to take a short break in posting.  I've not been in an aircraft for five years.  I used to prop it to the north about once a year in a Bombardier Q400, with a reliable Pratt & Whitney 150A.  It is a much more immediate experience upon landing than in a turbofan.  I've actually heard some women scream out upon hitting the tarmac (hilarious!).

This time, though, point to point, care of a CFM 56 5-A.  Five thousand kilometres as the crow flies south.  To the sun.

The Cask of Amontillado

I don't know why, but I have always thought that the narrator, son and heir of the ancient Montresors, was somehow sensitively gay.  I have no literary proof.  Maybe I just want him to be.  It is that sensitivity (like drag queen scale sensitivity, sooo haughty) that makes me read it this way.  God knows what unconsciously stupid insult by Fortunato was laid upon Montresor's character.  Probably it was some sloppy and off-handed remark or an opinion on vintages.  Whatever was said, it cut to the bone and ensured Fortunato's lonely end. Nemo me impune lacessit.

Maybe it is Montresor's educated and cultured authorial voice, as a man of taste, that leads me to think this way.  If that is the case, then I am a snob for identifying with his cruelty.  I suppose I shouldn't be so upset with myself, it is only a story.

Hear it here, narrated expertly by VonClegg Classics ..

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The Masque of the Red Death: MotRD