"When I do not want to say things in real life I often say them here." — Mimi Smartypants
I’m just waiting for someone to tell me those are coyote tracks, because I have some very literal-minded friends who never understand when I’m joking, and of course I know those are coyote tracks because that’s why I took the photo, innit?
Until now, I’ve been able to avoid saying Trump’s name in front of museum visitors. The closest I ever come is when I say the “current president” flies on Marine Corps helicopters. But it seems impossible to talk about a new paint scheme for Air Force One aircraft without mentioning the name of the only person who’s pushing the idea.
Donna and I went for a motorcycle ride Saturday. I attached a GoPro to the top of my helmet and recorded the good part, the ride up to Kitt Peak National Observatory and back down again. Later I cut several 30-second bits from the longer video and spliced them together in three short clips. This […]
Speaking of bringing society down, why is it that whenever I see a sexually crude, grossly inappropriate post on Facebook, it was put there by a fellow Hash House Harrier? What are we, a pack of sniggering 13-year-olds?
Bettie Page’s hips didn’t stick out like that, is all I’m sayin’.
If you’re doing something people need, it’s not menial or beneath you. Don’t disparage honest work.
Social media, forsooth. Tell you what, I’m getting far more out of Instagram and Twitter these days than Facebook, which … with the exception of a few friends who still take the time to write actual newsy posts … features little more than lowest common denominator copy & paste crap.
Rather than roll over and accept that some of our fellow humans, equipped with brains at least biologically similar to yours and mine, can smell smoke and think it means there’s an iceberg nearby, or listen to Trump’s third-grade schoolyard taunts and hear a fourth-dimensional chess master at work, I trust my own powers of observation.