Who can’t handle the truth? I was emailed this image today: no wonder TLA is so keen to dis’ Truthers. This is the smoking gun, the bloody shoe and the McGuffin rolled into one. Connect the dots and get the picture.
More evidence all is not well in Rurotardia: my Royalties for Regions scribing implement broke. Pen Inc.?
Krazy Kym and I went to that flash just-out-of-the-box-new small bar Hemingway’s Sorrow last night. It was painfully fashionable. After a creme de menthe we left in a state of ennui after seeing their toilets signs.
It just goes to show: the price of eternal not-Worst is vigilance.