Hiatus

I think it’s clear that UR has gone on de facto hiatus, so it seems best to adhere to my own philosophy and make it official. I’ve also posted a couple more poems below.

I apologize for the absence of a comment section. I am enormously appreciative of all the content that commenters here have contributed over the years. (I am enormously apologetic for my total failure to contribute appropriate moderation.) Unfortunately, it is really useless to maintain open public comments after the slightest attention in mass-market media.

I would recommend other writers to read, but it seems presumptuous, patronizing and rude. Whom should you read? Alas, I fear you’ve already made that decision. I’ll follow Alexander, and simply say: read the best.

(I do want to give a special shout out to Deogolwulf, for his literary scalping of Slavoj Žižek. Not that a zombie really needs his scalp, but at least you get to keep it.)

(Better yet, give the living a rest and read the dead. For instance, it’s the broad general consensus of modern professional historians that James Buchanan was USG’s worst President evah. Well… haters gonna hate. But why not give our own dear reality the benefit of the doubt, set that consensus as a prior—and then read Mr. Buchanan’s own book? Which he actually, believe it or not, wrote himself? Like, you know, a real person?

I know. I know. You, also a real person, are too busy to read James Buchanan. But not too busy to hate him. Well, haters, etc. And for non-haters, if your dear little prior needs any more of a workout, which frankly would surprise me, work it again with Lincoln The Man. Personally I feel Lincoln is really the first of the modern Presidents, because I have a strong suspicion that just about every brilliant utterance we attribute to Lincoln, is actually the work of his brilliant young secretaries Nicolay and Hay. Another unprovable conspiracy theory, I know, I know.

By curious coincidence, our leaders today, while of course great statesmen of historic proportions, are major writers in their copious spare time. Really any of their masterpieces—I saw a whole box at Costco the other day—will do for a chaser. But why not—Dreams From My Father? If you do complete this grueling assignment, yet still find yourself taking the “real world” seriously, please write to UR for our warranty coverage.)

Anyway. UR will reemerge, of course. But not here, and not soon—and probably not even in this form. I’ll also try to do something non-lame with the archives. Thanks for reading!