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August 13, 2004
I didn't mean it, honest!
I fear I may have killed Julia Child, telepathically. Before you call me mad know that I have twice insisted in the last week that Julia Child was dead, hazily recalling her donation of a house to Smith College some years ago, and assuming that the consequence of her demise. And just last night a friend, who also shared this heretofore wrong belief, that Julia Child was no longer among us, revealed that she'd learned Julia to be very much alive. In my heart -- I shudder to admit it, fair readers -- I repeated again and again, "Julia Child is dead!," still unconvinced of her quickness. And then this: Julia Child, the grande dame of U.S. television cooking shows and books, has died at age 91, her publisher said on Friday. Now it was just the time when Julia Child might've been sleeping that I uttered sub-lingually those words I now so regret, "Julia Child is dead!" It is with great sorrow, with gravest weight and pangs upon my conscience that I confess the deed. Rest in peace, fair chef! I shall henceforth quit thinking dead those I know not assuredly to be so. ... I shall quit too this style of expression once I have quit reading Thomas De Quincey. posted by Dennis on 08.13.04 at 11:53 AM
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This is what you get for thinking bad thoughts! Flea · August 13, 2004 03:44 PM I know this sounds spooky as hell... But two nights ago, I was showing someone how to mix dogfood, and I regaled her with my best Julia Child imitation. Don't know what came over me. The "CIA Chef" routine...... ("C4, you know, is just like bread dough! You can knead it into any little shape you want, and put it anywhere. Very handy to have around.... The Claymore mine is like a big casserole! but inside it's just crammed full of little BBs...") I loved her dearly, and I am sorry to see her go. Eric Scheie · August 14, 2004 10:38 AM |
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I also possess the power to smote people with the power of thought.
A few years ago I was watching my beloved Red Sox get hammered by the Yankees with our worst relief pitcher on the mond.
I said out loud, "Awwww, Jesus, please just kill him" and the very next pitch was a line drive that hit the pitcher directly in the right eye.
He was lying on the mound shedding rivers of blood and I thought, 'Oh my god, I killed him...'
I wonder why prayers are not answered so readily when the subject is powerball numbers...