Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of every Star that heav'n doth shew,
And every Herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To something like Prophetic strain.
These pleasures of Melancholy give,
And I with thee will choose to live.

Geeze, Mister D. Retirement is a bitch, huh? LOL!!

I KNOW that was not from a television show, unless it was the Hallmark Theater.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaandd Beedlebauuum".

"Goodnight, Mrs McGilicuddy, wherever you are..."

"And that's the way it is...".

"Goodnight Chet. Goodnight, Hunt."

"Heeeeeeeeeeere's JOHNNY!"

"Take my wife...please."

We really are in severe regression now; our hopes of regaining some tenuous relationship with present time are dimming rapidly. But it is possible we just don't care, being rowdy souls who are as happy to gallop through the sun-dappled trails of the Long Ago as to bend to the oars of the present moment's storm-tossed boats.


A