We always think of this song as “lovers” or at the least relationships. How about our whole country — a chain of fools.
As a nation, that’s what we are. A chain of fools.
From wherever we come — the left, right, or middle, we are all of us an endless chain of fools dancing to The Big Asshole’s rhythm. And he can’t even find the rhythm. Nor can he sing.
Maybe we should make it our national anthem. At least we could dig the beat.
Garry came back from the grocery while the snow was softly falling. I already had flowers from last week, so I picked out the ones that were dead, left the chrysanthemums which were in good shape.
But I was grateful. We’ll be locked in the house for a day or two, depending on how much snow we get, though it’s supposed to relatively light and fluffy. That is my favorite kind of snow and I’m sure there’s a special word for it in some arctic language. There are a bunch and I don’t know any of them.
Sunflowers in the snow