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Since it didn't penetrate, it had to have been fired a long, long way away. Reminded that L.A. cops always park under concrete underpasses when it gets near midnight on New Years Eve. Fools firing bullets up in the air forget that the come down with exactly the same force as they were fired.
I've always secretly aspired too having a rose tunnel over my door. Mine aren't doing very well here in the sandy soil & subtropical heat. Roots grown through bottom of pots - no winter dormancy period to allow me to repot them - each one I've tried has expired to a little thorny stump remnant of what it might have been.
An unrelated-to-anything-thought crossed my mind yesterday. I once owned a gun to protect myself from savage hoardes etc. over here. Was too frightened of the thing to ever use it except once when I idiotically (as in totally mindless) thought it might be a good idea to shoot at a poinsonous snake basking on a granite rock in the garden. There was a mighty bang, a vanished snack .... and yesterday some 40 years after the event ... I wondered about ricocheting bullets & where that one might possibly have or did actually go.
Kinda like talking to yourself, isn't it waldo you sick old bitch.
Sister Robin crashed her bicycle yesterday and now is laid up in the building scheduled for a hip job and is dealing with a head injury... could have been worse. Robin's gonna be ok.
Stuff that skull candy in them failing old ears and rock out to Miseria Nomine.. Good luck finding a Latin transcript in yer fookin fone mooby. Can you find Elizabeth? She approaches the gate house on Cemetery Hill with all of Pleiades behind her hiding behind the medieval babes facing anna marie's duff.
Find it, waldo. Now.
Grape, seize her groats! He has invented the SLEEPING CHICKEN.
Everybody RUN before it's TOO LATE. Hide his device and end this madness.
That's hilarious Waldo ... don't know if it's supposed to be funny .... thought I might be the only one reduced to babbling when armed with a keyboard computer AND an iPhone SIMULTANEOUSLY. Never know where an email's going to arrive first or where I can or can't delete something so that it doesn't accidentally completely disappear forever when I only wanted to remove it from one of the devices.
Something that's arrived over here is Rdio - streaming 'whole-earth-catalogue' kind of jukebox - any kind of music anywhere, anytime. I keep bobbing between Maria Callas, Leonard Cohen & the Seekers - never has deciding what to listen to been more difficult.
Sure. Blame Sam. File is just as obtuse as yer regular shit. Maybe the machine understands it.
Ha! NO ONE expects the SLEEPING CHICKEN.
Happy birthday you old fuck. Many happy returns.
You wanna go there? You want to go there? You want to go go there and be a CHICKEN?
You can cluck cluck cluck and make a buck buck buck. You can get there quick and be a buck buck drumstick. If you go go there and be a CHICKEN.
That's Charlie Chikkken. Charlie doesn't even know he's a girl... just like Elizabeth does not know she is a witch... even though she had been practicing witchcraft all her life like her mothers had for hundreds of generations.
Boys generally learn that stuff from their fathers. And there is a special kind of mojo that crosses genders and generations. Witchcraft got a bad rep. Let us call it folk wisdom. Common sense is such a terrible oxymoron. Charlie does not know the connection between eggs and chicken soup.
Charlie is dreaming about fire hydrants thinking about beer.
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