Cranky Large Medium reading, 4 January

Go away.

Is there some reason you haven't left? I mean, you can't still be hanging around because you find me magnetically charming and lovely. Well, maybe, but then, I try to keep that under wraps, and I suspect you lack the acumen to detect my deeper beauty. Therefore, you must have some other reason for hanging around here. Ah, yes. The reading. Well, then, here you are:

You are a fidget. You can't sit still and do nothing, not even simple meditation. You have to be doing things all the time, and you can occasionally even succeed in making something worthwhile. You can earn cash, have sharp business abilities, and miserly instincts. If you ever figure out how to trust somebody, you might be lucky enough to have your trust rewarded with actual trustworthiness. But that will never happen, Scroogemeister.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. That, too, will never happen. But at least you can be satisfied that you're better off than these people, all of whom, on this date, experienced with life what always happens: King Sancho II of Portugal, Hosokawa Ujitsuna, King Ferdinand I of the Two Sicilies, Ali al-Haidri, Gabriel Cramer, Stephen Hales, Erwin Schrödinger (or did he?), Harold E. "Doc" Edgerton, Sol Tax, Robert Heilbroner, Frank Harary, Moses Mendelssohn, Elizabeth Ann Seton, Henri Bergson, Charlotte Lennox, Albert Camus, T. S. Eliot, Christopher Isherwood, John Toland, Joan Aiken, Irving Layton, Tobias Stimmer, Ange-Jacques Gabriel, Carlo Levi, Conrad Hall, Alton Tobey, Guy Davenport, Grenfell "Gren" Jones, Alfred Grünfeld, Phil Lynott, Rahul Dev Burman, John Gary, Jake Hess, Steve Krantz, Art Acord, Iron Eyes Cody, Mae Questel, Helen Hill, Donald Campbell, Tom Fears, Bud Poile, Roger Hanson, Cornelius Vanderbilt, Harry Helmsley, Julian Ashby Burruss, Topsy, Arthur Ford (he won't be sending any messages, either),

and Les Brown.

I suppose Swampfire beats heartburn.
Happy birthday, anyway.