So, thank you, America!
Robbed of my annual joke by apathy. You guys are no fun. The shopworn punchline is:
"Of course the have a fourth of July . . . and a fifth . . . and a sixth . . ."
However, I will show up on Labor Day to remind Vernie to pack away her white shoes.
I'll raise you another:Good one, Gail. More "Ruthless Rhymes":
“A man to fall into my life,” was her hope.
How awkward when his parachute failed to ope.
*Slips In and Slides the "New Guy's" Monogrammed Bed Pan Under the Door*
< Grabs Some Hazelnut Coffee and an Eggplant >
Poor Billy indeed; after all, he really didn't want to make an ash out of himself.