Friday, July 29, 2011

"Fried Fridays: 2K pounds in the tub"

Washing ton.


Can't argue it's about as 'fried' as it gets, just like the nerves and patience of the public.

I know it's getting late in the morning, and while I would love to be creative and write a more 'formal' Fried Friday's write-up, I'm also on a tight deadline to get some things completed before tomorrow's appearance at Bele Chere in Asheville.

Count me in with the masses THOROUGHLY sick and tired of our elected officials and their relentless bickering and unwillingness to compromise on any level, the latter for at least for one subset I can think of.

They say one bad apple can't spoil the barrel, but I'm not so sure anymore. There is a fine line and a dangerously slippery slope between pride and self-righteousness, that can make for a proverbial snowball heading for hell. Hmmmmmmm....

Many moons ago I heard a person tell another person to go to hell, which prompted the quick, cheerful reply, "I went once but got kicked out for bootleggin' icewater!" Amen.

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