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November for me has been a bitter cold slog of a month- too early to prepare for Christmas, too unpleasant outside for hanging around in graveyards and at the ocean. (Also, my dear mother passed away on 11/4/98 and this time of year inevitably reminds me of that.)
Now that I celebrate National Novel Writing Month all has changed. I am excited! After a pretty lackluster summer and fall of halfassed writing, I’m ready to churn out 1666 unedited words a day. You are invited to join me and tens of thousands of writers around the world. It’ll be fun, promise.
Malcolm Gladwell breaks it down in the latest New Yorker. Playing football, even on a high school level, leads to measurable brain damage. He makes an extremely uncomfortable comparison between dogs’ desire to please their masters leading them to suicidal behavior in the ring, and football players’ drive to play the game through all injuries to please their fans and coaches. We owe the players big for their devotion, according to Gladwell, and we have failed them. I’m afraid I agree. The game is untenable. And still fascinating.
Posted in football