Simpt. 4, 41 A.B.

~~  Helpful Hint of the Day  ~~

The human body requires an atmosphere containing at least 21% oxygen.
When making reservations at a hotel, motel, or lodge always ask and make sure
that your room comes complete with such an atmosphere.  You'll be glad you did!


There was no entry yesterday morning because I have this huge meat hook hanging above my bed (strictly  for sentimental reasons) and sometimes when I wake up in the morning and thoughtlessly raise my head a bit too fast from my pillow, I snag my brain on it.  It usually takes me a few hours to realize this after it happens, and then another few hours to remember how and why I should do anything about it.

Anyway, that's why there was no entry yesterday morning.

There was no entry yesterday afternoon and evening because once I got my brain back and had successfully fluffed it up the way I like it, I was preoccupied with using it to settle an old philosophical question:

What do I want - good grammar or good taste?

That remains one of the burning questions leftover from the sixties, of course.  It was sparked by a TV commercial (of all things):

"Winston tastes good like a cigarette should!"
"You mean as a cigarette should!'
"What do you want - good grammar or good taste?"

If only Bertrand Russell hadn't died Feb. 2, 1970, I might have had time yesterday to post something here....


There almost wasn't an entry again today because I felt compelled to spend much of my time at the labornasium.

It's something I try to do every Labor Day.

I don't actually go there and work myself, of course.  But I do enjoy taking the time to go watch others work.  It's not exactly polite or accepted behavior, of course, so I have to pretend to be working as I furtively glance out of the corners of my eyes at all the others building up a good sweat as they toil away on the various machines and assembly lines.

We all celebrate the holiday as best we can.

All in all, things went much better this time than they did last year when some guy got a splinter off the ditch digger machine and I ignorantly kept trying to furtively glance out of the corners of my ears at the paramedics who responded to his screams for help.

However you chose to celebrate your Labor Day, hope you didn't end up bemoaning the similarity between "viola" and "voilà" to total strangers picked at random like I did....


Back To Wallow In PHS
(Pre-Holiday Syndrome)

Home To Double-Check The Locks
On All My Entries Before Going To Bed

Forward To - What?  WHAT??
(Drop An Email Note To My Past Self When You Find Out
Just So It'll Know What To Write About Next)


Card Of Thanks

~~  Card of Thanks ~~

To Whoever Owns The Rooster Somewhere Off To My North:

Thanks for sharing the sounds of the country with me again today.
Crowings #12, #344, and #10,807 sounded especially roosteresque.


Obligatory Notice

(©Now by Dan "I'm Not Rappaport, Either!" Birtcher)