Monthly Archives: November 2013

Robby Burns borrowed a pony on this day in 1786 and made his way to Edinburgh. Later on, his poems cracked up the Railsplitter. Neither one made any money on the farm, it seems, and their bad luck with the … Continue reading →

I started to cry. The man stopped the Tilt-a-Whirl because Dad asked him. I escaped wounding on that occasion but still chose psychiatry over the circus. But I repeat myself.

Rosie the Riveter chomps a jumbo ham and rye and absentmindedly stomps the Fuehrer in the eye. Posing as Isaiah did atop the Sistine wall, so hot the lunch-pail goddess that Hitler stands to fall.