Memorial
In Which Your Humble Blogger was unaware of the story of Woodbine Willie.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was unaware of the story of Woodbine Willie.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is pretty sure it’s the two-ell llama that’s a beast, and the one-ell lama that’s a priest. I should probably check, though.
In Which Your Humble Blogger runs, jumps, turns, slides and shimmies.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is also concerned about the sock-tuckers, coke-stackers and of course those pleasant sons who pluck the pheasants.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is warned, but considers the warning to be more than the warning was warning of.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was going to link to Andrew in Drag, but the note got kinda long.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is proud. And ambivalent.
In Which Your Humble Blogger could probably have predicted which one was going to be funny.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is fucked with, and that makes him sad.
In Which Your Humble Blogger waited until it was over, because if you were inspired by it, then that’s a Good Thing, and I don’t want to ruin that. Still.