I'm Flatlined. Cut-n-paste burnout. Incipient repetetive-motion damage to all the muscles which have anything to do with a computer. A bad patch. A sag in the neural net. A complete lack of anything blowin' through the jasmine in my mind. My own little Blank Generation. An empty upstairs apartment. A hollow jar. A thousand-yard stare. My brain would be to a hungry zombie what a diet soda and a wheat thin would be to a starving man.

See, I'm even too out of it to make out-of-it analogies.

My sister told me a story tonight. She went with some colleagues to give a small presentation on the Pittsburgh-area river ecosystems to a community dinner hosted by a local nuclear power plant (yes, yes, I know). Received kindly and all that.

After dinner, they were approached by a pleasant man who noted that he was interested in their work, and particularly had some thoughts about sewage. "Putting sewage in pipes -- that's man's invention: it's not what God said to do."

He left her with his card, which directed her here. If you feel like exploring, be advised: Satan's plan to discredit breastfeeding is heartily rebuked!