None of my friends don't have Facebook accounts. Op-eds and studies can highlight our decreased enthusiasm for Facebook 'til the cows come home, but it doesn't change the fact that we are chained to the beast. Voluntarily, of course.
My family and I reside on a non-working farm, although we have a couple of horses and the usual stuff like pigs, cows, and chickens. We really don't have an honest-to-goodness farm, more of a hobby farm.
The late Christopher Hitchens had the professional contrarian's fixation on attacking sacred cows, and rather soon after his cancer diagnosis, he became one himself.
For me to say that all novels in English written by Indians are all alike would be a bit like saying that all the cows in India look the same and have identical horns.
This was a dairy cow, and dairy cows have IDs on them. The ID was traced back to the farm in Washington. It's a dairy farm. And that farm now has been quarantined, and the owners have been very cooperative in doing that.
The cows have ID numbers. And we should be able, throughout the investigation, which is ongoing as we speak, to be able to track that cow back to where it came from initially.
If I spent all my time criticising myself, I wouldn't be able to function. There are actors who theorise till the cows come home. I haven't the patience for them. It's maybe shallow, but that's why I'll never be part of the acting set.
When I was four, we moved to a farm outside Springfield, Missouri. We had a radio show from that farmhouse. My dad always wanted a farm. We used to go out and milk the cows every morning and then do a radio show with a remote control from our living room. We'd start by singing 'Keep On The Sunny Side.'