NO PERMIT REQUIRED

When Books Could Change Your Life Why What We Pore Over At 12 May Be The Most Important Reading We Ever Do Emily Flake By Tim Kreider A girl I once caught reading Fahrenheit 451 over my shoulder on the subway confessed: "You know, I'm an English lit major, but I've never loved any books like the ones I loved when I was 12 years old." I fell slightly in love with her when she said that. It was so frank and uncool, and undeniably true. Let's all admit it: We never got over those first loves. Listen to the difference in the voices of any groups of well-read, overeducated people discussing contemporary fiction, or the greatest books they've ever read, and the voices of those same people, only two drinks later, talking about the books they loved as kids. The Betsy Tacy Books! I loved those book

Plato said this. I couldn't agree more. In a world with the ability to communicate in some fashion or another 24/7, people talk too much. Everybody thinks they have something to say. Comment boards on websites and blog pages are filled with people, some of whom are wise men (a very few) and some of whom are fools (most of them), commenting on ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. Why would anyone waste time commenting or criticizing the parenting styles of Katie Holmes and Angelina Jolie? Why do people leave hate-filled comments calling her the most vicious ugly names imaginable after reading a web article about Sarah Palin. Why do fools HAVE to say something? I consider myself a fool. I have made myself a promise, NEVER to leave a comment (save friendly comments on the blogs of people I know) on a comment board. I don't know enough about which I speak not to make a fool out of myself. Why do more people not see their ignorance and keep it to themselves instead of broadcasting it

I will not take issue with any person no matter their race who can speak English. I will however, take issue with any person, no matter their race, who cannot speak English. I have informed my children, as they will most likely be the ones embarrassed by my behavior, that I will no longer struggle to understand someone who cannot speak English. I will politely and calmly ask to speak to someone who can speak the native tongue. By this I mean someone who speaks English well enough to understand me without several repeats of an order of say a -- Big Mac, not the meal, just the sandwich, and a diet coke -- so that I do not have to say something like, "I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell you are saying!!!"