The Editor: What kind of exceptionalism do we need, LL ?
Superior Cat: I would settle for some people who strive for mediocrity. Here are a few.
This bicyclist is exceptionally lucky.
Google & Co. might do an exceptional deed.
The feds are still exceptional liars.
Early Craftsman tools are found in Algeria.
One of the most abused prescriptions in our country is anti-depressants. My Partner, Doctor I. WannaTreat, has spent numerous hours in libraries all around the country in search of solutions. He has found the answer.
The solution is already available in your own home. The only side effect is recurrent euphoria. Toss your pills out the window and find your Happy Place directly under the picture of Dr. I. WannaTreat.
You are welcome.
I love this poem….I always send a copy to every young man who sends me an invitation to their high school graduation…..and to many who do not.
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”; If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run— Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!