BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Oddly enough, this summer seems to have already been far busier for me than summers past. Why that is, I have no clue. Maybe my watch spring is just unwinding a little fast and I’m trying to get things done before heading off to the great slushpile in the sky.

Or, maybe it’s just one of those things. Who knows?

Suffice it to say, my blog writing time has been severely curtailed by all of these other necessary activities, and in recent weeks I have found myself rushing to crank something out either right before, or even several hours after it was supposed to deploy.

Hopefully, I will be able to find a little time this next week to rectify this and once again stockpile a few essays on the weirdness that is my everyday existence. Unfortunately, today isn’t one of those “free time” sort of days. So, in lieu of a wandering diatribe extolling the virtues of evil redheads in dominatrix attire torturing conservative flies with Popsicle sticks and butterfly nets, I will simply leave you with the following:

What do you call a farm where the cows have converted the barn into a theater?

A Drama Dairy.

More to come…

Murv