Cranky Large Medium reading, 13 March

Go away.

What are you doing still here? Why haven't you gone away, as I requested? Who are you to keep cruelly pestering me? How is it that you continue to stand there? Where can I convince you to go, instead? When will you go? After I give you a reading? Ah, that's the report I want to file. So, I give you the goods and you get gone. Great! Here you are:

Let your ambitions rule, and allow yourself to forget your many past failures. They'll remind you they're there, whenever you gain your confidence and get rolling, anyway. Study yourself, maybe you'll find some latent talents (and maybe I'll develop wings and become Archangel Gabriel). At least you make friends easily. You should be able to cadge from them during your frequent "down" periods.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. The editor would never allow it in your byline. Still, at least you're ahead of these people, all of whom, on this date in history, gave rise to their own obits: Henry of Almain, Tsar Alexander II, Benjamin Harrison, Susan B. Anthony, John J. Toffey, Henry Shrapnel, Corrado Gini, Vittorio Jano, Bruno Bettelheim, Franz König, John Barbour, Charles le Beau, Elizabeth Madox Roberts, Stephen Vincent Benét, Lee Falk, Richard Burbage, John Holmes, Peter Tomarken, Lucille Ricksen, Maureen Stapleton, Austin Dobson, William Emes, Leland Stanford, Jr., Clarence Darrow, Robert C. Baker,

and Bidu Sayão.

Your dear parent will not admit to having spawned you. Film at eleven.
Happy birthday, anyway.