Which is easier to do this year than in any previous years in my memory because it feels very little like a holiday for anyone.
"End of the day, factory whistle cries. Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes."
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
Which is easier to do this year than in any previous years in my memory because it feels very little like a holiday for anyone.
I'm not trying to steal a march on autumn with today's title. It's a line from one of my favorite Paul Williams' songs, ...
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