The bridge connecting downtown Minneapolis and the University of Minnesota collapsed at 6:05 PM last evening. Of course the first blogger I thought of was my friend Captain Ed, since I know that his entire family live in the city. Fortunately his family is OK,
I have spent the last half-hour finding my son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. They’re OK, and now we have to wait to see who isn’t.
Today he’s following up: Death Toll To 9 As We Wait For Sunrise
Doug Ross has photos.
A friend just sent me this:
Via Larwyn, Barack Obomber
The Smoking Gun on the Muslim Brotherhood’s Agenda
Finally, someone agrees with me regarding plastic surgery: Fifty? No, it’s not the new thirty
Instead of succumbing to ageorexia, the disease that’s crippling middle-aged women (and younger ones, too) up and down the land who wish to do battle with sagging, wrinkles and bulges, I’ve decided to preserve what I can without resorting to cosmetic surgery, and live with what I can’t. My eventual decision not to succumb to Botox, lunchtime lasers or the knife was reached after a recent trip to New York.
I happened to be staying on the Upper East Side, where the matrons of Madison Avenue hang out and walk their Pekinese. These uniformly wealthy women, with access to the shiniest cosmetic scalpels in the business, looked eerily identical, like the aged aunts of the Stepford Wives.
Not good, not youthful, but most definitely weird. Some of my friends back home are heading the same way. I decided I’d rather look saggy than paralysed.
More blogging later. I have a follow-up post to yesterday’s My neighbor and Fred.