Men in dashikis with their leftist weeklies

I'm done with my Didion 10k, but her voice still hangs in my head. It's awfully hard to dislodge. One effective means of shedding a persistent echo is to dunk one's head in a bucket of Sam Smith Taddy Porter. Another is to read a boatload of academic papers, which is the route I've employed, though not by choice.

Alas, I am one of those unfortunate chameleons who (unconsciously, I swear to Jeebus) picks up subtle bits of diction, cadence, & manner from those around him. Which is good and bad, but mostly bad, and I've learned to control the tendency a bit over the years. It's just embarrassing and ridiculous to speak in an Irish lilt when in Galway, or to uncharacteristically drop all "g"s from my gerunds when in the South, or to accidentally don a dashiki when watching an African movie, etc. So I've tried very hard to resist the urge to poorly ape Didion's style lately w/somber & judgmental posts about delusion... if I start writing posts with intros, lit reviews, methods, results, and conclusions, you'll know why.