The little voice in my ear tells me that anger doesn’t make anyone feel any better. The voice belongs to the Dalai Lama’s translator, and it’s playing on my iPod. I have a theory that the DL may well be a puppet and the translator is really running the show, but it’s not fleshed out […]
If you don’t know me and you call me and ask me to do something and end your voicemail with “at your earliest convenience.” I may well just find where you live. So that I can promptly drive my gas-guzzling V8 environment killing car over to you. So I can poke my fingers in your
At YOUR earliest convenience you twazzock Read More »
Many moons and not more than eight suns ago, an old witch told me that I was angry with the world. For the most part, I pretend not to be. I keep my arable pasture face on, though deep down I’m a spewing turbulent spinning ball of hot lava, desperately trying not to explode. According
Originality? They Don’t Pay Me For That Read More »
