Rollins's Review, November 11
Brandon Meeks is from the Deep South. He writes about his family.
His family is wild.
Meeks’s work is hilarious, and literate, and consistently amazing. This week’s edition of his newsletter, Poiema, entitled “Boy Meets Girl,” is a treat. If you aren’t reading it, I don’t know what you’re doing with your time.
James Harris’s Stiff Upper Quip is a treat. Harris is a funny Brit whose lapses into philosophy are always worth a read. This week’s post, “It’s all over” is a useful dose of perspective for anyone in the midst of an existential crisis (which, I’d wager, includes most everyone who voted Red in the midterms).
I’m interested in everything. This leads me down some counterintuitive rabbit holes on occasion. My discovery of Dr. Jen Gunter was a result of one of those deep dives into a subject, and while little or nothing she writes has direct application to my life, she’s a tough doc and a good writer and I learn something about the world whenever I read her.
Dave from Vae Victis has useful perspectives on how to win at life. I enjoyed his latest, about public speaking, very much, and I recommend anyone who enjoys winning read him.
Mike Hind is one of my favorite people-I-kinda-sorta-know-from-kinda-sorta-work. I’d buy him beer and listen to him talk about how he’s a meadow until the cows come home, but until he makes it over here to Freedom Land, I’ll settle for reading his eloquent meditation on depolarization and the value of flow states.
Resident Contrarian wrote the best take on the Emily Oster thing, but I’m sure you read him already.
You do read R.C., right?
Right?
Megha Lillywhite’s take on the differences between the artistic nude and pornography is the best thing I’ve ever read on the subject. She’s got it exactly, exactly right.
Thanks for those words about my thing. This means people will think I'm doing a quid pro quo with my planned recommendation for one of your superb recent pieces in a day or two. But it won't be connected at all.
I really enjoyed "Boy Meets Girl." My 85 year old father still flirts that way, sans the southern accent though.
Whenever I watch old movies or see old photos I think of how all the horses and people are gone.