Alrightie, then. The rest of the household is now officially on the road. It's quiet! Just me, my blog, a bottle of Kentucky Tavern, a sixpack of Boulevard Wheat, some Smirnoff ice, 16 liters of Diet RC, and thou.
Let's get down to business ... but first, a word from our sponsor:
This half hour's Blogathon recommendation is one that's close to my heart. Slightly below and to the left and right of it, as a matter of fact.
I'm talking, of course, about boobies. Not mine (hopefully -- breast cancer is rare in males, I believe). Manic Girlie is blogging for The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Her blog features toons and photos of some very nice (and not as nice) racks, and it's all for a good cause, so don't moralize, especially since they're covered racks.
Not that it's about looking at pictures of boobies, of course. Or at least not completely. It's about a disease that kills thousands of women every year. Drop by Manic Girlie's blog. Check out the scenery. And, if you're up to it, help out.
I should probably mention my own Blogathon campaign. Doctors Without Borders. Good stuff, Maynard. Let's keep the love going.
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Hey, man, you don't talk to the President. You listen to him. The man's enlarged my mind. He's a poet-politician in the classic sense. I mean sometimes he'll, uh, well, you'll say hello to him, right? And he'll just walk right by you, and he won't even notice you. And suddenly he'll grab you, and he'll throw you in a corner, and he'll say do you know that there is no "I" in "team?" If you can keep your pig-headed stubbornness when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on Karl Rove, if you can trust Jesus when he wakes you up in the middle of the night and asks you to get him a pizza and invade Iraq -- I mean I'm no, I can't -- I'm a little man, I'm a little man, he's, he's a great man. I should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling across floors of silent seas -- I mean --
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