I just finished reading American Gods by Neil Gaiman. The last 130 pages were the smoothest read, I think. It's the kind of book you have to power through, but when you're done you feel smarter, although you're not sure why.

Seriously, though. It was a cool story--one of those "why didn't I think of that" books. But reading the acknowledgements made me sad, simply because Gaiman thanks the woman who lent her homes in Florida and Ireland to him so he could write. Then he thanks the doctor who helped him with the medical aspects of his story, the person who flew him around Wisconsin, his research assistant and many more. But I stopped at research assistant because therein lies my problem, I think. My acknowledgements for "A Scribble in the Margins" would look more like this:

"I'd like to offer a special thank you to WebMD for all the great medical advice regarding TBI and spinal injuries. I couldn't have done it without you. I'd also like to thank Google Maps for the help with all that nasty geographical stuff (I should have paid better attention in high school), especially the street view feature--super cool for fine-tuning details and randomly wasting time. Thanks to the random intern at the U of U who showed me around because the physics professors wouldn't respond to my emails. I'd like the thank Texas Hold 'Em poker for giving my mind a break from editing, and also for allowing me to amass $9.5 million in fake money that I can never spend on coats or shoes. Finally, an extra special thank-you, of course (I wouldn't forget you), to Wikipedia for all the random nonsense I looked up in you. Without all of you, this book would never have been possible."