Don't Mess with Me, Porkchop

I know someone who was born in Puxsutawney, Pennsylvania, on this date BUT who's name is not Phil though that would seem to have been low-hanging fruit at the time of his nativity.

My brother, Kelly, would be disappointed, somewhat, to learn his name also isn't Bill, as in Bill Murray, which might seem to be an acceptable alternative as a sort of homage to his cinematic tour de force.

I think Kelly is on to something with his regard for the movie since as I've aged I have a growing sense of us living and reliving the same day over and over again. The fear of End of Days may be misplaced as it could, for some of us, actually be more of a new paragraph than the closing of a book.

Look at our world, then at our nation and, then if you promise to NOT blink, look at your own life. What do you remember of where all of this was this time a year ago, a decade on or perhaps a score of yon years? I'm starting to think the rewind button is stuck and all that changes are the characters while the play rolls on.

Lest you think I'm depressed or distressed, nothing could be farther from the truth. I love this day because it's all the excuse I need to listen to this and smile, at least usually in that order.
-bill kenny