The Bad News

The Bad NewsIt's morning. Night is over. It's time for the bad news. I think of the bad news as a huge bird, with the wings of a crow and the face of my fourth-grade schoolteacher, sparse bun, rancid teeth, wrinkly frown, pursed mouth and all, sailing around the world under cover of darkness, pleased to be the bearer of ill tidings, carrying a basket of rotten eggs and knowing--as the sun comes up--exactly where to drop them. On me, for one.At our place, the bad news arrives in the form of the b...