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Thursday, October 03, 2013

T'would be nice...

If I could doff the lead apron of gnawing anxiety that I medicate with sardonic humour and port.

Ah, well. Tough shit, as they say.


  1. I think I might be on a slightly tighter budget than you, and cut from a subtly different emotional cloth, so it's all stifled rage and cheap beer for me.

    Apropos, I saw a riff earlier today at a ritually unclean (i.e. less-than-wholly-pro-Francisian) blog on the W.C. Fields quip about the blond who drove him to drink: "Thank you for that much, at least, Pope Francis."

  2. Yeah, well, it's off to the lambrusco shortly. Can't afford the port any more myself.

    Allow me to reassure you that fury is also a component of my weave, so to speak. Misery loves company?

    I'm gestating another couple of posts, so that will help, too.

  3. Eeeeexcellent.

    I've got a longish post coming together.

    Cheers, and let's toast Pope Guido Sarducci!


    Commiserator née Codgitator

  4. Oops, I don't know how to do pinpoint links in YouTube videos, but I meant starting just before 2:00. A prophecy of the Pope's next "off the cuff" "encounter"?

  5. I got it:

    Meanwhile, check out the church-lady foot-stamping by malcolm in this post of mine: