Just about every banjo you hear in a song these days—be it bluegrass, country, folk, rock or indie—has his echo. There are few musicians whom you can say that about, no matter the instrument. Goodbye, Earl Scruggs.
It’s time for Santa to hand over the reins. I’m pretty sure I said Handel’s “Water Music.”
Victims of circumstance.
I think, for me, this is the crux of what Occupy Wall Street & the other occupies are about.
Did I already mention that a baby ate my dingoes?
Better Pedestal than Receptacle
I’ve fiinally waved the white flag of surrender, marking the end of a protracted, noble, and ultimately senseless struggle to save my mailbox from the smothering embrace of jasmine, a cunning and relentless adversary who proved to be superior in battle and sweeter smelling under duress.
Both parties have agreed that a new mailbox will be erected at a sufficient distance, on the opposite side of the driveway, and that nesting privileges in the former mailbox would be decided at a later date by the cardinals, mockingbirds and wrens already living in the immediate vicinity.
It’s the small pleasures that make life worthwhile.
(http://www.theonion.com/articles/man-running-after-bus-delights-bus-occupants,2775/)
