The Incomplete Works of...

This morning, I read an article in the New York Times On Line on market segmentation within the malls of America.

But as retail companies race to open new chains that serve ever-smaller slices of the population they are using storefronts cloaked in wood and brick to ward off those who do not belong inside (and whose presence might diminish the shopping experience of those who do).

The copy of Newsweek that I'm reading now has an article about a reporter who finally swore off botox and who swears she will swear off fighting the aging process, and right next to her is a picture of Nicole Ritchie (whoever the hell she is) looking like death...warmed over. (Or like a young version of Nancy Reagan, which ever you prefer.)

At any rate all of this inspired the beginnings of "deep thoughts" about the ever growing tendency in our society to segment ourselves into groups of people exactly like ourselves.

And I'll try to write about this...I will...but now I have to go to the dentist...so I offer this musing instead:

Ever walk by your bookshelf and notice these kinds of titles: The Complete Works of So and So?

I did, just this morning, notice such a title on my shelf: The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain and I wondered...would an incomplete work feature pages of offerings like this?

In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me from the East, "Thish-yer Smiley had a mare-- the boys called her the fifteen minute nag-- he set the frog down and took out after the feller, but he never katched him."

And then I wondered. Are these two topics really the same? Am I perpetrating modern art. Will I make the dentist on time if I keep writing?