Well, somehow the past two or three weeks I've disposed of a lot of reading. Of particular note is The Way we Think, co-authored by Gilles Fauconnier and the ubiquitous Mark Turner; I slogged, waded, puzzled ("no-meaning puzzles more than sense") through it, suspending judgement as well as I could, while being appalled by its preciosity and sickened by its plain dumb unintentional errors. Of the latter of which I will just cite the mistake that both our authors working together have apparently made about the birth of Aphrodite, supposing her to have been born from the foam of the testicles of Chronos, rather than of Ouranos, which they assume were severed by Zeus rather than by Chronos. Making a perfect hash of a rather subtle and evocative Greek myth. And that ain't all, of course. Several references to Freud lack the now-obligatory point of what a bloody peaching pious self-serving fraud and utter humbug was Father Sigmund. So Anyway, then I looked to see what Steven Pinker is saying about George Lakoff--and it's devastatingly much like what I've been saying, though without the insistance that I favor on the conscious vs. the half-conscious use of metaphor. Looks like my work is cut out for me.