Thursday, February 09, 2012

Because I'm too lazy to dig for follower numbers,

and Drawn Cutlass gave me this

1. Copy and paste the award on our blog.
2. Link back to the blogger who gave us the award.
3. Pick our five favorite blogs with fewer than 200 followers, and leave a comment on their blog to let them know they have received the award.
4. Hope that the five blogs chosen will keep spreading the love and pass it on to five more blogs.
So I'll throw in
Doc Grumpy
Annie: "Dr. Grumpy's office, this is Annie."

Mr. Payne: "Yeah, the pill the doctor gave me makes me nauseous."

Annie: "Okay... In looking through your chart, I don't see that he prescribed any meds. In fact, you haven't been here in almost a year."

Mr. Payne: "My other doctor gave it to me last week."

Annie: "Then you need to call the doctor who prescribed it."

Mr. Payne: "What does that have to do with it?"

Og, for things like
Is it really so wrong

to have, as your hearts desire, a soul-filling need to gather herds of midgets dressed as lawn gnomes to storm the lawns of public officials, thereby confirming in their own minds that they have gone insane? Would it further be wrong to arm them with bags of rotting produce? Is it so wrong to want to see them cavorting, oiled and naked through the rose garden?

The Feral Irishman, for coming up with things like

"You hit one of Michelle's flying monkeys!"

The Everlasting Phelps

R. Kelly pees on a live 14 year old naked cousin on video, and he gets acquitted.

A couple of marines pee on a dead terrorist on video, and people want them sent to prison.

Does that seem right to you?

Down the small street, I came across a park, tucked into the shadow of the Tokyo Tower. It was circled around a soccer-pitch bordered with a few park benches. On two of them, apart, sat two teen-aged girls, practicing their French horns. Walking across this round space, I was approaching one of them obliquely, about thirty degrees off my course to the left. Hoping to soothe any apprehension of her nerves on the approach of this six-foot-three white man in a cowboy hat and mis-matched Nikes, I gave her an eye-contact moment of quiet applause. She nodded at me, never stopping her work.

The sounds of their horns next to this indescribably lovely little park impeccably kept, were exquisite counterpoint to the humanly-artifactual nature of the place: the trees were majestic and I wish you could have whiffed their fragrance in the springing air. This was human life at some of its most delicate beauty and purpose, in a place diligently kept for reminder of our stewardship of beauty in its original manifestation: mankind, in nature.
He doesn't post often, but when he does...

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