Better to light one candle....
but if the darkness curses back and blows out the candle - it's time to move.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Buzz kill for new year's resolutions
A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
Of course, basically, you still have about a thousand miles left to go.
On the bright side though, it's still not too late to use the bathroom.
Of course, basically, you still have about a thousand miles left to go.
On the bright side though, it's still not too late to use the bathroom.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
live and learn
Dear Darlene,
I was wrong. It has become increasingly apparent that I can live without you after all. Please return my jar of depilatory and my autographed copy of Mickey Rooney's memoirs.
regards,
Stan
ps: I have neither forgiven, nor forgotten.
I was wrong. It has become increasingly apparent that I can live without you after all. Please return my jar of depilatory and my autographed copy of Mickey Rooney's memoirs.
regards,
Stan
ps: I have neither forgiven, nor forgotten.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Fatal flaw
There are some things which cannot coexist in the same space. Not simply a matter of moving to another table, another apartment or even a new town. It's like anti-matter. One will eventually destroy the other. He was determined to prevail.
He can't recall the exact day his awareness of the problem began, but the date he began planning his retaliation was burned in his mind like the spot where the fly lights on the sherbet. Carefully, quietly, methodically he toiled in preparation for the event which would free him from his overarching nemesis. Countless were the days he executed 'dry runs', not allowing a single variable to occur which could scuttle his plans.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of plotting and waiting, arrived the morning of the day for action.
But, even before he looked out the window; before he got out of bed; before he so much as opened his eyes - he knew he had failed. All his work, lo these many years, was for naught. He had made one minuscule, yet fatal error. One insidiously simple factor, tragically, had escaped him.
It was raining.
He can't recall the exact day his awareness of the problem began, but the date he began planning his retaliation was burned in his mind like the spot where the fly lights on the sherbet. Carefully, quietly, methodically he toiled in preparation for the event which would free him from his overarching nemesis. Countless were the days he executed 'dry runs', not allowing a single variable to occur which could scuttle his plans.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of plotting and waiting, arrived the morning of the day for action.
But, even before he looked out the window; before he got out of bed; before he so much as opened his eyes - he knew he had failed. All his work, lo these many years, was for naught. He had made one minuscule, yet fatal error. One insidiously simple factor, tragically, had escaped him.
It was raining.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Italy is shaped like a boot
Lovers of things British are called Anglophiles.
Shouldn't those who are devotees of all that is Italian be called Italics?
Shouldn't those who are devotees of all that is Italian be called Italics?
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