Leaving the last gig, there’s a coterie of female friends, cohorts, vendors, associated accomplices, i.e., people who work alongside me.

I know they’re all moms, maybe half-dozen or dozen kids spread out between, three or four of them1. I questioned them all at once, through a face mask.

“Ya’ll are all moms, do you know anyone who got sick from eating raw cookie dough?”

See? This is the problem with our litigious societal structure: not enough raw cookie dough.

See the fineprint for details, limitations, and exclusions.

  1. Begs the questions, “Do you know where the kids are coming from?”

    The stock answer, from old Austin?

    “I didn’t get pregnant until I moved to Austin, so I’m pretty sure there’s something in the water.”


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