this week i

published on the price and history of expensive drugs in the employer-sponsored insurance market.

landed in london on a clear day.

viewed the georgia o'keefe exhibit at the tate modern.. of the insane ones.  nobody captured childhood's reality like bill watterson.

remember the homeless man who lived at the library of the university of toronto and just read all day.  any of us could do it, naturally, but our fear of missing out keeps us preoccupied with the jobs and responsibilities that afford us avocado bread and other next season trends.

rewrote a dialogue by northerns in the deep south for southerners in the far north.

what am i gonna wear?  what are ya gonna [club]?  i dunno, he got, uh, he's got a lotta stuffed heads in his office.  heads!  what kina heads?  i dunno.  he's got a [moose], a bear, a coupla [seal].  woah, you gonna [club] a [seal]?  i dunno.  i suppose.  i mean i'm a man's man, i could go [seal clubbin].  a sweet, innocent, harmless, [salmon]-eating, doe-eyed [baby seal].  hey lisa, i'm not gonna go out there just ta wimp out, ya know?  i mean, the guy'll lose respect fah me.  would you radder have dat?  *door slam*  whaddabout dese pants i got on, you think they're ok?  oh!  *door open*  imagine you're a [seal].  you're [swimmin] along, you [need to breathe], you spot a little [hole in the ice], you put your lil [seal] lips [above] the cool clear water..  bam!  a fuckin [club] rips off part a your head!  ya brains are laying on the [snow] in little bloody pieces!  now i asks ya.  would you give a fuck what kind of pants the son of a bitch who [clubbed] you was wearing?