No, today's title isn't a reference to my social habits during my wild and wanton youth, but thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt, Thomas. I mumble and jumble all that I understand of the lyrics to that REM song to be when I'm confronted by confusion and consternation and, in the case of this news tidbit datelined Palm Coast, Florida, topped off with a side order of Do-si-dos and Tagalongs.
All of that for Girl Scout cookies.
I shudder to think about what they would do for a Klondike Bar.
-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.
Showing posts with label it would seem this Lent we have even more than usual to repent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label it would seem this Lent we have even more than usual to repent. Show all posts
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Song of the Season
There once was a union maid, she never was afraid Of goons and ginks and company finks and the deputy sheriffs who made the raid. She went t...
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I wrote this five years ago in an effort to make sense of the unfathomable horror of the darkest day on the calendar in my lifetime. It...
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My thug name is 'Willie the Whiner,' because of my non-stop lamentations about our weather, no matter what our weather is at any giv...
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You may not have yet started to notice, but the days are getting shorter--yes, I know, hot summer nights and all that, but since we've h...
