Blue Tape

Whew…baack…from the depths of paint cans, rollers and lines of sticky blue tape. Confession. I’m a serial painter. Of walls, wood work, ceilings. After a long session comes the swear to never…. paint… again. Never. Until the dawn of a new day when an evil voice in my head whispers, “gotta paint..gotta paint.” So I paint again. And while thus engaged what happened?

Tiger (really tired of this guy) fessed up…to himself and mom. True love only from a mom.

The Winter Olympics thankfully ended. Gonna miss those rifle shooting skiers, those broom sweeping shuffleboarders, those sweety pie crybaby guy ice dancers, those spandexed dudes flat-backed on tiny rosebud sleds, those personal stories of courage, hard work, lives dedicated to speeding round an ice rink all for the nationalistic glory and fame. Skier Lindsey Vonn is already shilling for alka seltzer cold. Guess she caught one.

The Massa had a massive brain failure. Tickled to near death.

Aw, naked Rahm?

Health Care deformed to the degree that it might actually pass…if Democrats don’t kill it.

What did the Pope know and when did he know it?

Are all those incidents of unintended accelerating cars really unintended? In our “Balloon Boy” culture of notoriety one cannot be but a bit skeptical.

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