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The Bitter Elixir of Love

So much that YHB just doesn’t feel like writing about.

The thing about the massacre in Newtown is that I don’t have anything to say about it, and haven’t had anything to say about it, and yet feel that I should say something about it.

Fortunately, Colin McEnroe—who is generally better at wild humor rather than impassioned pleading—wrote something worth repeating:

If there’s an elixir, some potion we can drink, it’s almost certainly love. Right? Love is the only possible bright sparkling rope bridge we can clutch as we stutter-step through the dark universe.

What a joke. Our only good piece of equipment is love, the thing we fail at so often. We’ve been talking all week about weapons, but our only sure-fire weapon against chaos and nothingness is love.

Do you keep it oiled and cleaned? Is it right close at hand, so you can grab it and brandish it? Are you packing it right now?

Happy Boxing Day, Gentle Readers all. Keep your love close at hand.

Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,