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sign of the times

One more sign for me before I pass out for the night. It's sort of tasteless, so it's below.



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Sorta Tasteless?

Oh, that bumps its butt right off the bottom from the git go....

that is truly awful but made me chuckle in that sick twisted feeling you get in your stomach.

OH SHIT!!!!!
You ain't right, Michele!
(Yet so apropos for Mother's day, you sick puppy, you.)

Surely there'e room for a little stick figure with upraised hands in the back seat?

You sick, twisted bastards! I love you all.
Would that I could have you all over to dinner sometime....we could roast wieners over the fire, marshmellows...drink some good wine, let our imaginations out for a run, crack each other up till the wee hours.
(I wouldn't really serve wienees: probably barbecued something or stuffed game hens...I live to cook.)
Next time any of you are up north, drop me a line, I'll put on a chicken.