Recently I have been (re)reading some of the classics.  I’ve gone through Jane Austen’s entire collection, rediscovered Jane Eyre, and discovered Robinson Crusoe.

My most recent read was one of the most terrifying novels ever written — George Orwell’s 1984. I had read it in high school, but found it more frightening this time around. When I read it 50 years ago, it was just a cautionary tale.  Now it seems, well, more immediate. More possible. 

But something was missing.  I could have sworn there was a passage in that book in which Winston remembered, as a child, taking a crust of bread away from his baby sister, who was too sick to do more than cry weakly.  When he went back into her room she had been gnawed on by rats.

It was a horrifying scene.  He blamed himself for her death, of course.  And it fully explained his overwhelming fear of the rodents.  That fear eventually caused him to betray Julia, leaving him nothing but to love Big Brother, the final step in the surrender of his mind and will.

That scene was missing in the book I read this past winter.  I know, because I went back and looked for it.  Without it, Winston’s terror in Room 101 is understandable but not fully explained.

Did I make that scene up sometime in the past 50 years?  Did someone take it out because it was too gruesome?  Are they printing more than one version of the classics nowadays?  Did the original version go down the Memory Hole?  Am I committing a Thought Crime?

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I have a suggestion for the makers of the Kindle and the Nook and whatever other similar devices come on the market. 

How about, at the user’s option, the last 20 pages of each book are tinted red, or maybe have a red border.  The 20 pages before that use orange, and maybe the 20 before that use yellow.  It’s a warning system to let others – others who have the audacity to interrupt you when you’re reading – to know the level of peril of speaking to anyone that close to the end of a book.

Come to think of it, there’s no reason a conventional paper book can’t have the same coding system.

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If we say “healthy” when we mean “healthy” and also when we mean “healthful,” how will people know what we mean?

If we say “chemicals” when we mean “the substances of which everything in the universe is made” and also when we mean “artificial and often harmful substances added to foods and medicines,” how will people know what we mean?

If we say “organic” when we mean  ”made of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen molecules” and also when we mean “grown or raised with no pesticides,” how will people know what we mean?

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I had bought a bag of lovely and very expensive pecan meats at the Farmers’ Market.  They were worth every penny – fresh, tasty, perfectly-textured, without a broken piece in the whole bag.

Something that luscious deserves to be used in a special recipe, and I decided to try my grandmother’s Buttermilk Pralines.  I had written the recipe directly from her dictation, and had never tried it in all these years.  So I stood at the stove stirring the foamy sugar and buttermilk and two full cups of very expensive pecan meat mixture until it reached the required soft-ball stage, then dropped it by spoonfuls on the waxed paper.

After half an hour, when the candy had cooled and was still shiny and gooey and showed no sign of setting up, I knew something was wrong.  Blame it on the heat, on the humidity, on my lack of cooking skills; there was to be no edible candy from that batch.

Surely the two full cups of very expensive pecan meats are salvageable, I thought.  The sugar mixture coating them is water-soluble and I just need to wash it off.  I tore as much of the waxed paper away as I could, dumped the rest of the mess in a colander, plugged the sink and ran it full of water, and set the colander in the sink.

The waxed paper was the first thing to come loose.  It floated to the top.  And after some time and some swishing, the buttermilk and sugar mixture let go and settled to the bottom of the sink.

Apparently nut meats absorb water, because my two full cups of very expensive pecan meats were more than a little soggy.  Not to worry, I thought, a little heat should take care of that.  I spread my two full cups of very expensive pecan meats in a single layer in a pan and put them in the oven on low heat.

In my refrigerator is a plastic container of two full cups of very expensive, toasted, soggy pecan meats.  I don’t think they’re good for anything, but I can’t bring myself to throw them away.

After all, they were very expensive.

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You can be a practicing Christian in a totally Libertarian society, but it’s almost impossible to be a practicing Libertarian in a totally Christian society.

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A week or two ago I attended a rally sponsored by Americans for Prosperity.  The two featured speakers were P.J. O’Rourke and Michelle Malkin.

Now, I would probably not have gone there at all if O’Rourke had not been invited.  He’s one of my favorite writers, and he was signing books, and you could not have kept me away if my skin were brown and the Arizona Highway Patrol had been lined up blocking the door.  I paid my money, which included lunch, and signed up.

I had thought I might leave right after O’Rourke’s presentation, but I didn’t want to forego the lunch I had paid for, so I sat through the rest of the speakers.

O’Rourke was, all by himself, more than worth the price of admission.  There were a couple of speakers who presented statistics showing how bad liberal policies are, which was mildly interesting.  Dr. Milton Wolf, the President’s cousin, was mildly amusing.  Michelle Malkin absolutely set my teeth on edge.  She sneered; she was mean, even caustic.  The crowd laughed and cheered.  I was embarrassed.

One of my coworkers was there, too, and when we got back to the office I commented on how much I had disliked Malkin’s presentation. My coworker, who likes Michelle Malkin very much, reminded me that O’Rourke is at least as sarcastic as Malkin.  He’s right.

So what’s the difference?  I’ve been thinking about that ever since.

Sarcasm is sometimes defined as a taunting or caustic remark.  My favorite informal definition is that sarcasm is when you say something positive and mean just the opposite.  And any definition of sarcasm would have to include the intent to be derisive or contemptuous.

By any definition, O’Rourke is sarcastic. 

But he is also one of the wittiest people I have ever read.  And I think that’s the difference.

Anyone can be sarcastic.  Really.  As a matter of fact, some of the stupidest people I know are the most sarcastic, because they don’t know the difference between sarcasm and wit.  They hurt people without making any kind of a contribution.  They’re the ones who turn to a child who has just spilled a glass of milk and say, “Good job!”  And then they laugh because they think they’re being funny.

Bare naked sarcasm requires no intelligence, no wit, no research, no effort.  I find it small-minded.  In my eyes it diminishes the person using it.  Michelle Malkin is a pretty, intelligent, and personable woman.  But I will never think well of her.

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Mankind starts unchecked global warming by burning fossil fuels.

Earth compensates and restores normal climate.

Earth continues to compensate, overdoes it, and starts unchecked global cooling.

Mankind must burn increasing amounts of fossil fuels to keep the planet from becoming a ball of ice.

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Last winter I lost a library book.

No, I didn’t misplace it; I know exactly where I lost it.  I had gone to a public place to eat lunch and do some shopping.  I had my arms full with a coat and a purse and a library book and a shopping list and reusable shopping bags.  I sat for a while eating my lunch and reading, then I went shopping.  When I got home and unloaded everything from my car, the book just wasn’t there.  I called the public place to see if some kind person had turned it in.  No luck.

A day or two before the book was due, I went to the library and ‘fessed up.  Since no kind person had turned the book in there, either, I paid for it.

That was several months ago, so I assume someone out there has, free of charge, a mildly interesting mystery novel with heavy-duty binding.  I can only hope that person has enjoyed it, maybe shared it with friends.  It would break my heart to know that he or she just threw it away.

A few weeks ago I turned off 21^st Street onto the entrance ramp to I-470.  There was a book lying there.  Even from a moving car, I could tell it had library binding.  There’s a little pull-off right there and traffic was light, so I stopped.  I walked back and picked up the book.

No, it was not THAT book.  We’re talking coincidences here, not miracles.  But it was a book from our local library.

On the way home that evening, I went by the Fairlawn Plaza library book drop, fully intending to return the book to the library that way.  But the Bookmobile was there, so I was able to hand the book to a real person.  I had the satisfaction of telling her my story, and she gave me a nice verbal pat on the back for my kindness. 

So, you out there.  You whose kid threw the library book out the car window onto the entrance ramp when traffic was too heavy for you to stop.  Yeah, you.

You’re welcome.

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