I'm thinking of running off and becoming Amish. But that's a tale for another time and another place...
What I actually wanted to talk about today is the alarming rate of bulimia among bovines. Unfortunately, I'm not supposed to say anything about that until the secret, highly classified research is complete. And far be it from me to incur the wrath of Homeland Security. Or FEMA. I fear FEMA more. I'd hate to be tried, convicted, and sentenced to live in a small white trailer at the back of beyond and forced to hunt with Dick Cheney on the weekends.
Mercury is in retrograde and giving lots of people fits. I myself haven't noticed any adverse effects. Of course, that could change were I to pop my head out of my hole and look. Notice, I said no adverse effects. Things are happening, to be sure -- some perfectly awesome, some unholy freaking weird. But still mostly good. I'm thinking that perhaps Mercury likes me, maybe even looks out for me. I could be wrong about that. I was wrong. Once. There's still plenty of time for Mercury to come crashing down on my head and take me out in a blaze of glory. It wouldn't surprise me overmuch. Or bother me. Nothing much does these days.
I think someone famous once said you should wear red during these bad retrogrades. I don't remember who. But that was in another country, and besides, the wench is dead. I look hideous in red anyway. I'll just have to take my chances with pink, blue, yellow. Black.
It's possible that the heat and humidity have fried my brain early this year. That usually doesn't happen 'til late July or early August. It's been a strange June. Somebody turned off the heat last weekend and it got chilly enough for blankets. And then, voilà, like magic -- or Voodoo, or something -- it was boiling hot again. And there is no surcease in sight in the immediate future.
It's gonna be a long, hot summer. Move over, Mr. Faulkner, and make room for me.
TWISTED LINGUISTICS, which are yours today to do with as you will.
First, from our "editor" --
I past it on to everyone
And, moving on --
the textile experience of running my fingers over it
Sometimes, it's all black and white.
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