Used to be a highly respected watcher, now I'm a wounded dwarf with the mystical strength of a doily

Yesterday, I re-read the section of Plato's Republic (Book V) that deals with an idealized possibility of equality between men and women. Then I watched "Watchmen" and thought about The Comedian's nihilism (and Jefferey Dean Morgan's arms, not gonna lie.) Then I listened to endless Johnny Cash as I picked up the house and wondered at his lauding from hipsters, rather than someone with greater musicality, such as Lyle Lovett, or a contemporary with greater vision, such as Gram Parsons.

Any of these pursuits would have made worthwhile conversation fodder. Instead, I brushed all of this aside and spent 30 minutes today telling Eddie how awesome Tide Drop-Ins^TM are (because, OMG, they are! I mean, like shockingly so!)

Somewhere in that is a brilliant treatise on third-wave feminism (or Tide vs. Mama's got the magic of Clorox 2) but I'm too busy trying to get raspberry yogurt out of Jonah's white Mickey Mouse pajamas to write it.