A much better day today. Friday's are like that, especially just before a three day weekend. The week has been "much ado about nothing" and it wasn't until Friday afternoon that a clear path was revealed.
The weekend plans are coming together, with preparations tomorrow for a celebratory get together on Sunday followed by the fireworks at Girsch Park. Monday shall be a day of rest and relaxation (fat chance).
Awarded Worst First Sentence of a Novel
The Bulwer-Lytton award is given annually for the worst first sentence of a novel. Contestants craft deliberately bad opening lines. Molly Ringle took the 2010 prize with this gem: The weekend plans are coming together, with preparations tomorrow for a celebratory get together on Sunday followed by the fireworks at Girsch Park. Monday shall be a day of rest and relaxation (fat chance).
Awarded Worst First Sentence of a Novel
"For the first month of Ricardo and Felicity’s affair, they greeted one another at every stolen rendezvous with a kiss — a lengthy, ravenous kiss, Ricardo lapping and sucking at Felicity’s mouth as if she were a giant cage-mounted water bottle and he were the world’s thirstiest gerbil."
POEM - Illegal Immigrants
I cross river,
poor and broke,
Take bus,
see employment folk.
Nice man
treat me good in there,
Say I need
go see Welfare.
Welfare say,
'You come no more,
We send cash
right to your door.'
Welfare checks,
they make you wealthy,
Medicaid
it keep you healthy!
By and by,
Got plenty money,
Thanks to you, TAXPAYER dummy.
Write to friends
in motherland,
Tell them
'come, fast as you can'
They come in buses
and Ford trucks,
I buy big house
with welfare bucks.
They come here,
we live together,
More welfare checks,
it gets better!
Fourteen families,
they moving in,
But neighbor's patience
wearing thin.
Finally, white guy
moves away,
.
.
I buy his house,
and then I say,
'Find more aliens
for house to rent.'
In my yard
I put a tent.
Send for family
they just trash,
...
But they, too,
draw welfare cash!
Everything is
very good,
Soon we own
whole neighborhood.
We have hobby
it called breeding,
Welfare pay
for baby feeding.
Kids need dentist?
Wife need pills?
We get free!
We got no bills!
TAXPAYER crazy!
He pay all year,
To keep welfare
running here.
We think America
darn good place!
Too darn good
for white man race.
If they no like us,
they can go,
Got lots of room
in Mexico.
I cross river,
poor and broke,
Take bus,
see employment folk.
Nice man
treat me good in there,
Say I need
go see Welfare.
Welfare say,
'You come no more,
We send cash
right to your door.'
Welfare checks,
they make you wealthy,
Medicaid
it keep you healthy!
By and by,
Got plenty money,
Thanks to you, TAXPAYER dummy.
Write to friends
in motherland,
Tell them
'come, fast as you can'
They come in buses
and Ford trucks,
I buy big house
with welfare bucks.
They come here,
we live together,
More welfare checks,
it gets better!
Fourteen families,
they moving in,
But neighbor's patience
wearing thin.
Finally, white guy
moves away,
.. I buy his house,
and then I say,
'Find more aliens
for house to rent.'
In my yard
I put a tent.
Send for family
they just trash,
... But they, too,
draw welfare cash!
Everything is
very good,
Soon we own
whole neighborhood.
We have hobby
it called breeding,
Welfare pay
for baby feeding.
Kids need dentist?
Wife need pills?
We get free!
We got no bills!
TAXPAYER crazy!
He pay all year,
To keep welfare
running here.
We think America
darn good place!
Too darn good
for white man race.
If they no like us,
they can go,
Got lots of room
in Mexico.
A husband and wife are on the 9th green when suddenly she collapses from a heart attack!
"Help me dear," she groans to her husband. The husband calls 911 on his cell phone,
talks for a few minutes,
picks up his putter and lines up his putt.
His wife raises her head off the green and stares at him.
"I'm dying here and you're putting?"
"Don't worry dear," says the husband calmly,
"they found a doctor on the second hole and
he's coming to help you.
"Well, how long will it take for him to get here?"
she asks feebly.
"No time at all," says her husband.
"Everybody's already agreed to let him play through."
"Help me dear," she groans to her husband. The husband calls 911 on his cell phone,
talks for a few minutes,
picks up his putter and lines up his putt.
His wife raises her head off the green and stares at him.
"I'm dying here and you're putting?"
"Don't worry dear," says the husband calmly,
"they found a doctor on the second hole and
he's coming to help you.
"Well, how long will it take for him to get here?"
she asks feebly.
"No time at all," says her husband.
"Everybody's already agreed to let him play through."
