The maintenance boys are working across the hall, and their radio is playing one of those songs by Powderfinger that sounds exactly like all of those other songs by Powderfinger. It might not even be Powderfinger, just some band playing a song that sounds like all those Powderfinger songs that sound alike. You know the ones; mellow, sugared crap.
Death comes for us all (a melodramatic haiku of retirement)
Alas! this blog is
no longer where it is at.
Onwards! (Back to home.)
guts and garters
It's all fun and games until someone loses molecular cohesion.
Tuesday, November 27, 2001
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