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Number of posts: 7
Email address: email
By Frederick Palmer:
If you have an argument for opposing sensible gun control that is more convincing than the broken bodies of twenty little kids who were counting the days until Christmas, then by all means, let’s hear it. Your precious second amendment, if you actually read it, gives citizens the right to keep and bear arms for the purpose of maintaining a ready militia. At the time this amendment was passed the only arms they knew and could foresee were muzzle loading, black powder, single shot, flint lock smooth bore muskets and pistols. You cannot pass legislation that will ever keep people from going crazy; but you can take the weapons of mass murder out of their hands.
A Tale of Two Nieces
Rachel wasn’t very old yet. She was very cute, but not very old. In fact, it was the first year she got to ride the school bus with her big sister Sarah and Sarah wasn’t very old either. She may have been in third grade. If I were to find out it was the fourth grade I’d be very surprised. Mrs. Sullivan was the bus driver for school bus number 64 that year and all the kids liked her. She always talked to the kids and teased with the older ones. She looked after the little ones too, making sure they looked happy, healthy and found a seat without any problem. None of the kids on Mrs. Sullivan’s bus ever caused any real problems for her; not even the boys, which was an enviable state of affairs among school bus drivers.
Sitting on the front porch an hour or so before sundown, slipping out of your shoes and listening to fiddle and guitar isn’t such a bad way to finish up the day. If someone is willing to get off their rocker long enough to fetch libations, then so much the better. This is Old Virginny. You know, “back where the cotton, corn and taters used to grow.” Right here where the Appalachians meet the Blue Ridge Mountains you could say we’ve pretty much got it all. Only thing about having it all, though, is that all just naturally includes one or two things you could really do just as well without; like the particularly unsavory odor that sometimes blows up the hills and through the hollows polluting the crisp December air. It’s nothing less than the foul smell of mendacity
Answers to Everything
“Ultimately it is a matter of self defense, an attempt to condition male thinking. That is the reason women will say size does not matter. Tertiam Quidd, 1982
Back in 1967 Miss Debbie was just a cute little coed making the most of every blessing Mother Nature had given her. She was smart. It’s already been mentioned that she was cute and though I never saw her soaking wet, my guess is that even then she still would have smelled a whole lot better than a wet dog. Southern ladies are like that; they seem to have a naturally pleasing fragrance about them that a drop or two of rain or even a bit of the sparkle with which they glisten on particularly hot days only seems to enhance their delicate bouquet. They are delicious I assure you.
We take ourselves way too seriously. My friend Q says she draws the line on silliness, however, at farting in public. I think most people around the whole world agree with her. You hardly ever hear the expulsion of intestinal gas during a public or social gathering and when you do it’s usually some old person who can’t help it. Like me. But we all know there’s plenty of it around. We’ve just been told that letting it escape in the presence of others isn’t nice. Maybe it isn’t. Q’s Rule, as we’ll call the socially accepted boundaries on flatulence, seems to be observed by nearly everyone.
Daughters of the South
“With the loss of honor the depths to which we may sink are unfathomable.” – Tertiam Quidd, 1972
In the Old South, ladies are prohibited by custom and by fashion from crawling under trucks and buses just to have a look around and assure themselves that everything down there is just the way God intended it to be. My lovely daughter in law, Ms. Trisha, was born in the South and born a lady. A genuine Southern Belle and native of Charleston, South Carolina is what she i
Regardless of the outcome of this 2012 national election, first and foremost I am so glad it has finally ended. On voting day, long before the polls had closed and the returns started to come in I felt once more like a ten year old boy on the last day of school at the beginning of summer vacation. I believe we have all just witnessed what can only be called national insanity. Lack of substance, ridiculous sums of money and the encouragement of divisiveness and disrespect are, for me, what characterized the elections of 2012.