When I reported aboard ship, I thought I heard one guy called “Stan.” I called him that, and he answered to it, and we were friendly. One day long after, he asked me why I called him Stan, since his name was Dave. Go figure.
Oh, go take a hike.
I was sitting a neighbor’s kid when she spilled a package of popcorn all over the couch. Crumbs falling between the cushions. Luckily, Nature’s Roomba, a black Lab, was curled up on my feet. Wake up! I’ve got a job for you!
After some disaster or other (who can keep track these days?) I donated $20 to Doctors Without Borders. Over the years, I expect they’ve spent more than $20 in mailers to me, seeking more donations.
You’d think they’d really be pushing the extension to the no-eviction law.
“The salient fact of American politics is that there are fifty to seventy million voters each of whom will volunteer to live, with his family, in a cardboard box under an overpass, and cook sparrows on an old curtain rod, if someone would only guarantee that the black, gay, Hispanic, liberal, whatever, in the next box over doesn’t even have a curtain rod, or a sparrow to put on it.”
Attributed to commenter Davis X. Machina, in a post at Balloon Juice.
My parents used to complain about my rock music, “You can’t even understand the words!” Well, NOW you can understand the words. Happy?
That’s Cat TV!
Thank you from saving me a day of wondering where I’d heard that name…
Liveblogging, as it were.