August is the cruelest month…

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… at least, according to a recent article by Slate‘s David Plotz. My birthday is in August, so I’ve always been disposed to view the month a bit more kindly, but I’ll admit that Plotz has a point: it’s hot, it’s muggy, and there are no real holidays. “August is when the garden starts to wither, and when the long summer days cruelly vanish.” Shantih shantih shantih, indeed.

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