I appear to spend half my time on this blog writing as if I were a junk mail bot. Which may well be a more lucrative outlet than Monk Quixote. I should read a biography of Lewis Carroll, I guess. He more or less invented nonsense. Before Alice, there was only gruel and romans. Oh and Victorian fifteen part tomes on the sex life of a ping-pong ball (or was that the standard essay set by all prefects in catholic boys’ schools).
I have that nagging thoughtpecker in my head that is nag, nag, nagging away at me because I am pro, pro, procrastinating about pi. Ok. Not about a numerical constant. About literal non-constants. Badum-pi.
