- MODERATOR COMMENT - OF COURSE I AM RIGHT!
Out all day yesterday. Came in this morning to check the mail and found a dispute between Fred the Pirate (posing as a mild mannered forester) and Alec the Aristocrat (a faint resemblance to numero VIII of the Henry clan).
The dispute? Which of the two could claim the more rural digs among the towns and villages of the Costa Rican outback. Now really fellows, there must be some topic of more universal interest to reflect upon when the reflective mood makes its annual trek to crease yet another channel in your already furrowed brows.
Take this puzzle, long debated in scientific circles: just how is it that the female memory can recollect every bad thing that we have ever done? Everything. The bad list is endless yet it's there, recorded in the gray matter somewhere in there between the neurons, just ready to spark a synapse upon the slightest provocation. How is this possible?
Just yesterday she came in while I was vacuuming out the toaster. What are you doing she asks. Vacuuming out the toaster, I reply, crumbs in there. One does not vacuum the toaster, she says, her voice taking on a caustic note. Ought to keep it clean, I say, and she takes this comment as a personal affront (though meant only as a general view on toaster maintenance). Well I remember in 1985 when you.........And there it is. I can't even remember who won the Super Bowl in 1985.
Come Sir Alec and the Pirate, a more sober reflection on the meaning of life and the nature of man.
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