Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Hot Shot

    I am ready to at least consider putting an end to sentences that begin with 'And.'  Call it weak wristed elderliness, if you wish to.  Call it a belated attempt to grasp the fundamentals of grammar, which includes the colon as well as the semi-colon, along with the accent acute.  Indeed, you can call it whatever the hell you want.  I'm calling it craven, or sweet surrender.  

     Which is the sort of thing that happens when the big red hand of the Almighty slithers down from the great shopping center in the sky, pokes you in the back, calls you obedient, then  further insults you by offering what here on earth is described as "a fulltime position, with excellent health insurance, stock, as well as share of profit."  And; he can kiss my wrinkld árse. 


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