So if you were hoping for something about it...you came to the wrong place.
Anyway. The word, Pub, is a funny word. In Literary Criticism today, Ali said something about how she imagined John Donne sitting in a Pub, talking to Death, in that one poem he wrote, whose title I can't remember.
But it brought me right back to the first time I ever heard the word, Pub. My brother and I used to be obsessed with shockwave games on the internet. And there was this one game with a little Aussie guy named Lennie or something. And you walked around in the outback avoiding snakes and playing games, and visiting his girlfriend in the "Pub," where she was watching Cricket on the tele. Yeah. It was the bomb. An educational bomb. There was something in that game about hitting toads with a truck, and they made this sandy little explosion sound. The bigger the toad, the more points. Kind of disgusting. Reminds me of driving home after a rainstorm and swerving for toads, but occasionally...well you get the idea.
There was another game on that webpage about a fat little guy who ran around a cookie factory, whimpering: "I'd like another cookie, plleeaaase!" And you had to watch out for guards and bloodhounds.
There used to be this webpage for Post Cereals too, all these games. I can't remember them individually. But, MAN, they were good times. That was back in the early days of the internet.
The last smattering of books I've read have been: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (Like, the 385th time I've read/seen it), Summer for Change by Liberty Alum Anna Walker, The second book in Bill Myers's "Forbidden Doors" series, aaand, C.S. Lewis's Out of the Silent Planet.
Next on the list is Jerry Jenkins's Riven, and Perelandra.
Good night, Neverland.