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Word of the Every So Often​
deacceleration trauma: (noun phrase) a sillyism for what happens when your parachute doesn’t open; to go splat. Deacceleration trauma is the leading cause of death in the Buddy Holly Syndrome, which is when the plane you’re flying in experiences a rapid, unscheduled disassembly.
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The Almost Daily
​
In a effort to highlight just how miserable the Great Depression was, on this day, March 6, in 1930, International Unemployment Day was first observed. As far as we know, it was the only time it was observed. And that's probably a good thing. Just musing, here at the Press, if 2026 will some day be remembered as just how miserable a country can get. Let’s hope not. Or, perhaps, let’s hope so. Because that means that everything is just going to get better.
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Cartoon of the Week

SOS
STUFF
Maggie
Maggie was a cat.
She was a good cat.
She did what cats are supposed to do well.
She slept, she ate, she laid around,
and she caught mice.
Maggie was good at catching mice.
She ate them, too,
which her people found rather disgusting,
but they were willing to ignore it,
because they really didn’t like the mice.
Maggie’s life was good.
But it wasn’t enough.
So Maggie decided to go to college
and major in philosophy.
Well, sure, most people in her undergrad classes
noticed that she was a cat,
but the further she went
the less anybody seemed to care,
until she got in grad school,
and then nobody noticed at all.
The trouble began
before Maggie finished her Ph.D.
She started to question things, like:
Was the unquestioned Mouse
Really not worth eating”
Was any mouse worth eating?
Was there really any mice at all,
or were they a collective illusion?
Perhaps Maggie herself
was an illusion of a mouse.
And the more Maggie thought,
the more she came to realize
that she could never stop.
The logic followed QED:
If you meow,
and therefore you are,
then if you don’t meow,
then, therefore, you’re not.
But perhaps she wasn’t anyway,
for after all,
how could you ever know anything for sure?
And Maggie became totally useless as a cat.
Of course,
it took the mice a whole three minutes
to realize that not only was Maggie
not going to chase them anymore,
but Maggie wasn’t even going to move,
even after they discovered
that the quickest way to the kitchen
was going over Maggie.
And in marginally less time
than it took the mice to realize
that Maggie was less than useless,
the mice had overrun the entire house.
It was about that time
that Maggie got the boot.
She was replaced by a tomcat
who was so stupid,
that he thought his tail
belonged to somebody else.
He had the mice whipped into shape by nightfall.
Maggie might’ve starved
had she not made her way to the University,
where she came to stay,
spending the rest of her days
in the Philosophy Department.
Well, yeah, she was just as useless there,
but nobody there noticed the difference.
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