The few, the brave, the phew...

Thoughts scattered like chicken feed across the dining room table as mother wept in the corner and the youngest of the children greedily filled their pockets with baked potatoes still wrapped in tin foil. Forget the bacon bits--they can't save you. Forget the rudimentary diaper box airplanes--they won't fly you away. It really is too bad that no matter how many potatoes you greedily stuff into your pockets when no one is looking, you will never be saved, you will never be happy. You cut holes in your pockets. There are no more potatoes left. There are no more left overs.
∞ 25 year old wombat salesman killed on duty in Ducksborough.
∞ 13th century artifacts stolen from museum lunch room. Among the item's missing: Joe's "World's Greatest Dad" coffee cup, Cheryl's libido, and a stack of about 35 paper plates left over from Neil's birthday party the day previous. Police have no leads.
∞ Every time I slam my fingers in the car door on my way to work I curse loudly and the neighbour judges me silently out their front room picture window. His name is Roger, husband of Sally, he is an asshole.
∞ I would never tell him any of this to his face.
∞ That may make me a coward, but at least I don't steal paper plates left over from birthday parties.
∞ I made that up.
∞ I make a lot of things up.
∞ I told the Police Roger has outstanding parking tickets.
∞ Roger isn't an asshole.
∞ It was just a misunderstanding.
∞ I am trying desperately to determine which demarcation device works the best for demarking these items in these list like disjointed thought bubbles in burst form bulging from my occipital protuberance. Today we are going with ∞ for the infinite possibl...I am not even going to finish that sentence out of the shame I feel.
∞ On a deeply personal note, this brown blog has surpassed the 100 visitor milestone since I began measuring such things 100 visitors ago. The 100th visitor found their way here from Anjou, Quebec by searching Google for "Kurt Cobain Lives in Montreal." That he does.
∞ Courtney Love lives in the ever popular constant state of flux.
∞ So do welders.
∞ And solderers.
∞ And soldiers weilding welding torches held high and past on and such.
∞ And Stanley Cups.
∞ And Tin Cup Soldiers.
∞ On blustery Thursday afternoons.
∞ And Thursday afternoon drive-in movie theatre parking lots where they no longer play movies because someone stole the paper plates out of the lunch room, about 35 of them, that were left over after Neil's birthday party.
∞ He had just turned 32.
There you have some Washington Monument overlooking a drowned umbrella, Courtney Love stolen from some website (click on it to go to it), and an Extra Terrestrel of the Chicken variety.

In case you missed it, here is a post that got buried, it is about a great man, you should read, comma, comma, comma.

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