Since I’m in a very musical mood at present, let’s take it to the stage with Wee-Man. Where you go from there is up to you, but pommes frites* are you usually a jolly good place for me—or so they seem at the time, but most thoughts (or what passes as thoughts) are purely fueled on primal instinct and little else by that sodden point. I would like to say I’ve heard that the little sticks of starch make excellent alcohol sponges, but then I also think I’ve heard they make excellent artery plugs? Oh well, half dozen of one/half dozen of the other, I suppose, especially when you’re shedding brain cells like a retriever does hair in the dead of summer. But such are the consequences to be a rock and not to roll… (more…)
more turbonegro