Crackle crackle crackle crackle BZZZZZZT!

The following links take place between 11:00 a.m. and 12:00 p.m.

:: You know what sucks? (So how long are you going to stay at that job, Aaron?)

:: So, why do I care? Because dammit, he’s my little brother and I feel like I should go beat them up. (Someone should go beat them up regardless of whether he’s their little brother. Man, what a wuss thing to lose one’s job over. But hey, maybe he can come back up here — Ed Kilgore bugs me.)

:: When hammers are swinging and saws are cutting, it smells like progress. Smells good, doesn’t it?

:: I fully recommend getting married with otters. (Uh…OK.)

:: I often imagine this is what the nectar of the Gods must have tasted like. (Nah! Everybody knows that the nectar of the Gods tastes like Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum. That’s my theory, anyway, of why things are so messed up: because the gods are constantly crocked.)

:: His body language suggests he’s describing the size of the bag of Cheetos he wants to eat right now. (Shit, now I want a big-ass bag of Cheetos….)

:: I am a true connoisseur of late blooming female beauty. I love the bodies of older women and I have the pictures to prove it. I’d post them but the wife and professional woman who lives inside the particular forty-something body I love would kill me. (Weenie.)

:: [T]eaching the Classics to many high school students is a waste of time, and further, it is detrimental to literacy efforts. (I found this journal by searching for anyone else who had written about the Sterling Renaissance Festival, which she did here, but I found this post a lot more provocative.)

:: So naturally, we went skinny dipping and T made me pose. (Jayne may yell at me for this, but it’s such a lovely picture. Both are, actually.)

:: So — in Mogadishu and Iraq and Afghanistan and Lebanon — the soldiers themselves are caught in the maze of war. Even with guidance from above the convoy of Humvees loaded with wounded can’t turn the corner without facing the Minotaur.

:: Traveling at the speed of dumb, I assume. (Clearly Tom’s pseudo-outing hasn’t affected his powers of snark. In fact, you might say that struck down, he has become more powerful than Paterico could possibly imagine….)

All for now. Come back next week.

beep…beep…beep….

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3 Comments

  1. Better a live weenie, than a dead connoisseur, that’s my motto. Besides, alive I get to look at the pictures whenever I want. Not to mention the model herself.

    Thanks for another link, J! I love these sentential links of yours. They always take me to fun and interesting new places.

  2. I wouldn’t have to link you so damn often if you’d stop writing good posts. Geez!

  3. I would never yell at you! You should know by now I’m a vain bitch and love the attention (yes, notwithstanding that old inexplicable melt-down when I was new to blogging that’s melted way on down under the bridge, my friend.)

    So, thanks : )

    PS I like the revolving pictures – you’re looking like quite the bad-ass in those sunglasses!

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