March Is the Cruelest Month
Yes, I know it’s “April is the cruelest month,” and I also know that I’m disagreeing with the genius of T.S. Eliot. However, I argue on grounds of practicality and clothing, and my argument has nothing to do with hyacinths, the disjunctive qualities of modernity and the modern era, the archduke, possible induced abortions, or dogs digging up buried bodies. I’m talking...