442. I have won the cork board war.

 It was almost too easy really. But I won. In 24 hours it was done. Cork board is mine, just mine. 

On my cork board we send noble messages about how literature makes the heart bigger and the mind stronger, how it sends you there to the frontier where art meets science, where you are mighty and powerful and everything becomes possible. Where you laugh, cry. Where you meet the most wonderful creatures and see the most wonderful landscapes. Where you do not care if you are hungry and weak because you will survive.

Literature is still the Nobel subject. So Miss Churros and Paella (can't offend readers from Spain as I have none but when I do get some then please forgive me this reducing your culture to stomach contents) can go and stick her trip snaps somewhere else. 

I am happy. I am. I really am. And this is pathetic really because if winning the 24-hour cork board war makes me that happy then something's wrong. But I am not going to go down that path right now. It would ruin the happy buzz I get from winning the cork-board war.