He achieves a softer plush with his face letting the gray grassy mass accumulate. Short enough he will not chew a whiskey growth a little moss. Something to rub at during meetings. that won’t come come off on the fingers.…
Dance party tonight
Would you like to dance? A gazillion years later would you still like to dance? Put on high boots and a dangerous skirt? Are you addicted to garbage this weekend? Age inappropriate? Will you shake that thing? And are you…
The Scooby-Doo Conundrum
I just told my kids that Scooby-Doo has a speech defect. But now I’m not sure. Even though the dog speaks and functions in a very human way, is he not still essentially a dog? And given that, should we…
x-post: Future fantasy headline happiness
MSBC.com and I are feeling bullish about the start of the new congress — read all about it over on edgewise. 0
The deer liked to race
The deer liked to race around this particular meadow. Maybe it was the grass. Or the smell of the grass. Or the smell of last year’s deer. Whatever the pull, the meadow was packed with deer, and they were running.…
Karen Dalton and the beauty
My better half gifted me with a lovely re-release of a lost gem — In My Own Time by Karen Dalton. Billie Holiday-influenced folk blues complete with three fingers of whiskey in the vocals. All covers — just more evidence…
Welcome to Your (Doom of Clowns)
Earlier in the month I promised to deliver this here clown song, based on a line gifted to me by my son. “Welcome to your doom of clowns,” he said. Really. Until a few days ago I thought this was…