This feels like a postscript to yesterday. Crazy crap in the hinterlands, nothing's shocking, nothing to say, new or carbon copy, no solution but blood, flowing never from the deceiver, but the receiver. So, only what I know.
Why should the pump & the brain have all the shakes?
10 comments:
Excellent orb photography, R.G.
With the short Ohio winter coming, I think you'll find that this will be a go-to subject until May or June or whatever.
~
Palsied darkthroning.
Things look strange in Ohio! :)
((Hugs))
laura
I choose to believe that the third and fourth photos are graphic representations of the awesomeness of Colt McCoy and Mohammed Massaquoi, respectively.
Knock it off you're making me want to puke!
round round dizzy dizzy :P
The only thing I would have added was the monster from Cloverfield.
Ah, jiggle pix. Everyone has to try a few sometime.
if, what is this, what do you call it? Winter?
jim, sometimes you have to make your own bells & whistles.
laura, I'm always on the lookout for when things don't.
landru, any time they wish to use their Olympian electrical generation powers would be a-okay.
demeur, you really should stop drinking in the middle of the day.
BB, either that caused the shaking, or it was the latest corrupt county pol throwing a tantrum.
SWA, that sounds vaguely naughty.
A Full and true account of the vvonderful eruptions of a prodigious downtown steam vent, vvhich cast out vast quantities of fire to the destruction of several whole citie blocks, Together with a relation of a vvonderful of a vvonderful fire, that happened there by the heat of the sun, which consumed the herbage of one whole field, set fire of the hedges, leaves and outward branches of several trees groweing in the hedgeway; and halfe the next field adjoyning...
In dayes of straunge-nesse, the earth crack'd, to send forth judgement vppon cittie haul, thou corrupt soules who render to themselves what be-longs to ev'ry one, known as goods & service & victuals & breakfast cereals, know they that such a consummynge fyre awaiteth them.
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