Let me know when one of ’em breaks into “In the village, the peaceful village, the lion sleeps tonight….”
I’d wear one that said “4:30 Time for Wapner” but I’m afraid it would go over too many millennial heads.
Kind of reminds me of the day I got out of the hospital and stopped to have some fast food in a parking lot. A bee landed on the inside of the car door just as I settled in, and instead of shooing it away I decided if it wanted to hang out with me and listen to the radio for a while I was fine with that.
And does anybody even now have a clear picture of the idea “as the crow flies”?
Holy Moses, you’re right!
Specifically can’t kiss neck (panel one), can’t stroke or fondle neck (not listed among permissible hand contacts in panel two).
Why even call it necking, then?
You put it on blisters to protect them while they heal.
No, wait. That’s *mole*skin.
I had a friend of sorts in high school. He was short and had big ears that stuck straight out to the side.
We called him The Human Wingnut.
Until Nil, Bernice was the very picture of control.
It certainly suggests that the Mormons are on the wrong track….