A fireside chat with tiny dog

OK, teeming masses of tiny dog readers, I know I've bored you with the typewriter fad and the papercasting rambles, and so I've moved all of that kind of nonsense over to yet another new blog, Strikethru, which will from this point on handle all retro content rambles, so that we can clear the tiny dog decks to continue our seven year conversation about... well...

Anyhow. So, I hear that Britney freaked out again. Who saw this coming? Show of hands?

Anyone else worried about death in a can? Can I just add an item to the next top five baby-related list I crank out, and that is, once you have a baby, stories like this go from "Hmm, that would suck to barf" to "this could kill my child." Multiply these kinds of greatly inflated fears by a google. The number, not the search engine. And there you have it: parenthood.