9 AM. on a Saturday morning. WTF?
This page is turning into a literary form I dislike; a diary.
Anyhow just for now, here goes…..
All the good people I have known are dead, with some exceptions.
While most of the peevish and pea-brained are manifestly still hanging around here in the temporal zone.
Or is it just me? Is it just a fleeting feeling?
(pause any length here from 24 hours to 4 decades)
Nope! It’s pretty much ‘set in stone’
I’m aware of the impression this bold assertion might send to amateur analysts. Yet there it is!
Which brings me to bring you to someone who manages to make humour out of repressed indignation.
Do yourself a favour and listen to Bill Burr. The comedic gene obviously needs a generation or three in Boston to flourish. By comedic I mean intentionally comedic as opposed to the native Irish variety who are unintentionally unfunny.
Warning: Ripe language used for emphasis!