I have no idea how the rumor mill works. I picture it as a sort of perpetual motion machine. A complex intertwining of pulleys and levers driven by a huge sail device that turns on the winds of its own gossip. Words move around on conveyor belts, occasionally dropping off into the ears of the mill workers, who sometimes add fresh rumors to the assembly line. Like any industrial situation, there are frequently byproducts, both positive and negative. The current mill byproduct seems to be a good one, precipitated by the discovery by one of the secy’s at work that I make my own wine.
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