Writers routinely advise one another to “kill your babies”—sacrificing favorite lines that don’t quite work. Well, you can kill ’em, or you can just blog them separately. This was the original lead for the piece I published yesterday, at ProRhetoric.com. You can tell why I liked it, and why it had to go.
It’s Sunday afternoon, after last night’s Gridiron Dinner, in Washington, D.C. I’m back home in Chicago, wondering like a snail in a bathing suit pocket after a spin cycle: What the hell was that all about?
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