Drinking grape juice during the week always seems strange, like I’m sneaking a sip from the communion juice at church.
Don’t you hate it when you leave the light on all night and, in the morning, your closet won’t start?
I am anxious for November 6, not because I am enthused about any of the candidates, but out of a vain hope that all this nonsense will be over on November 7. It won’t be, of course. On November 7 the lawsuits will start and, as soon as those are over, all parties involved will start running for their next election.
A possibly blown call by replacement NFL refs in the Monday night game doesn’t bother me because I don’t care about either team involved. What will bother me is when a ref—either temp or permanent—blows a call against my team. It’s going to happen, sooner or later, as all referees are at least semi-human and prone to mistakes. What also bothers me is that Monday Night Football is no longer on a channel I get. Yes, it’s been several years, but I’m still mad at the NFL for that.
As bad as the temporary NFL refs may have been of late, they’re still better than the Major League Baseball umps on any given night. When have you ever seen a game with a consistent strike zone, let alone one that followed the rulebook?
Watching (and enjoying) “The Avengers” movie I couldn’t help but wonder just how much it would cost the city of New York to rebuild after that final battle. I hope Tony Stark’s got good insurance.
We complain about the quality of political candidates we get but admit it: we all agree that you’d have to be nuts to run for high office to start with, so we’re starting at the bottom of the barrel and hoping to build up from there.
If the Apostle Paul had been on Twitter, Romans 16:9 probably would have read like this: “Shout out 2 @Urbanus, our fellow worker in Christ, & <3 @Stachys.”
As the days get cooler, I like to spend some evenings sitting around the fire, thinking deep thoughts. I’m getting good at the fire part, still need a lot of work on the “thought” angle.
Don’t you just love those moments in a football game when the running back trips in the open field, nobody around, and some defender does a dance like he had something to do with it? In Massachusetts couldn’t they try such a guy as a Warlock?