I sit here penning this missive having spent 30 minutes in real exercise while reading The Way of Men.
The stove is cooking vegetables, vegetables I personally did not grow, but vegetables I learned how to grow as I in turn grew up. In the oven is a modern marvel of convenience, farm raised chicken, purchased at a grocery store.
Packed with that chicken is also
I sit here wondering: What would Jack Donovan think of me if we met?
Donovan's book resonates within me. Everything he's said so far, spot on. Everything he writes, it is truth. Everything he references, this is reality.
He makes it very clear. The Way of Men will offend a lot of people.
This book spells it out in clear, simple, precise language.
Many people will deny this. They buck the weight of history. They rebel against the very world that is just around the corner from their neat, packaged, sanitized and pacific world. They deny, vigorously and with unrealized malice aforethought, exactly what happens within walking distance of where they live.
Yeah. This book epitomizes If the truth hurts,
I received my copy from Mike Moore and, per his instructions, when I am done I must pass it on. It will be a sweat-stained copy, which I think Donovan would appreciate.
I will be buying a copy for my personal library and if I can afford it, some other folks will be getting a copy from me.
I paused just now. I read the Wikipedia entry of Mr. Donovan. I leave it to you look it up.
He still speaks truth to me. His words still resonate.
But his opinion of me? If Wiki is correct, his opinion of me continues to
Pursuant to the rules he's outlined in
If the truth hurts,