“It is impossible to experience one’s death objectively and still carry a tune.” – Woody Allen


I found this photo somewhere on line – it was labeled Humorous headstones.


For those that are comically impaired read from right to left to understand, or at least try.


It snowed for a little bit thru the wee hours of the morning.  It stuck to the car until it was nearly time for me to leave and slip off to the north to pick Jon up from work.


Before I went on duty last night I listened to the HBO Podcast of Real Time with Bill Maher.  I have to admit that I really enjoy the program.  Setting here now, I cannot begin to record anything that stood out other than the Real Time reporter’s behind the scenes look at what happened at the last Democratic Debate in Los Angeles.  I apologize – I cannot remember the individual’s name.  I can tell you that he writes for Rolling Stone and that he was rather frank about calling it as he saw it.


There was a commentator that reminded me that in Spanish his name was Jesus.  In the Middle East it is pronounced (Isis).  Then I found myself locked into a childhood television memory that appeared opposite Captain Marvel being strung up next to Eric Idle on a hill far-far away.


It wasn’t that exciting of a show and I am disappointed.  I love Bill Maher’s commentary and his humor has caused a chortle or two.  But this most recent show, I could have awakened dead as if having been prescribed Ambien.  (I suspect Heath and Anna Nicole Smith’s son were prescribe this sleep aid.)

I am amused by drunk dials.  Particularly those from a supervisor granted it doesn’t actually qualify as a true drunk dial.  However drinking had been involved and the usual professional indifference, rather impartiality, is left at the way side.  A more personable apathetic individual emerges.  It is nice to know there is a level of agreement when something goes awry.  It is like being handed a roll of toilet paper when you find yourself in a stall without.