by Bobdog
July 20, 2010 in Asshole
Sarah Palin has delighted us for years with her captivating, in-depth analysis of world affairs, cleverly cribbed on her forearms. And today she is comparing herself to William Shakespeare. According to our Sarah, Shakespeare invented all sorts of words, just like her. No doubt she will be go down as one of the world’s greatest wordsmiths, someday supplanting Shakespeare and lengthening our lexicon with a flurry of wacky new words.
by Bobdog
July 20, 2010 in Asshole
Sarah Palin has delighted us for years with her captivating, in-depth analysis of world affairs, cleverly cribbed on her forearms. And today she is comparing herself to William Shakespeare. According to our Sarah, Shakespeare invented all sorts of words, just like her. No doubt she will be go down as one of the world’s greatest wordsmiths, someday supplanting Shakespeare and lengthening our lexicon with a flurry of wacky new words.
by Bobdog
July 20, 2010 in Asshole
Sarah Palin has delighted us for years with her captivating, in-depth analysis of world affairs, cleverly cribbed on her forearms. And today she is comparing herself to William Shakespeare. According to our Sarah, Shakespeare invented all sorts of words, just like her. No doubt she will be go down as one of the world’s greatest wordsmiths, someday supplanting Shakespeare and lengthening our lexicon with a flurry of wacky new words.
by Bobdog
July 20, 2010 in Asshole
Sarah Palin has delighted us for years with her captivating, in-depth analysis of world affairs, cleverly cribbed on her forearms. And today she is comparing herself to William Shakespeare. According to our Sarah, Shakespeare invented all sorts of words, just like her. No doubt she will be go down as one of the world’s greatest wordsmiths, someday supplanting Shakespeare and lengthening our lexicon with a flurry of wacky new words.
by Bobdog
June 28, 2010 in Cats
My old cat, Rat, turned 18 a while back, and recently we discovered he has lost his sight. Old age, the vet says, a gradual thing we didn’t notice until it was gone. The realization was very sad and a little scary. We talked to friends who had cats, and I was surprised some suggested that since Rat’s quality of life was gone, we should think about putting him down.
by Bobdog
June 28, 2010 in Cats
My old cat, Rat, turned 18 a while back, and recently we discovered he has lost his sight. Old age, the vet says, a gradual thing we didn’t notice until it was gone. The realization was very sad and a little scary. We talked to friends who had cats, and I was surprised some suggested that since Rat’s quality of life was gone, we should think about putting him down.
by Bobdog
June 7, 2010 in The Many Lives Of Humans
There’s an old guy on our street – I’ll call him Ray, because that’s his name.
Ray has lived on our street all his life, in the same room of a boxy, white two-storey house that hasn’t changed much since it was built around the Second World War, shortly before he was born. By all accounts, Ray was a good boy, to his father until he died in the 70’s, and to his mother who lived a good long life. Roy never married, never even dated as far as the long-term street biddies could remember. By the time we arrived to the street, Roy had become snickeringly known as the 65-year-old virgin.
by Bobdog
June 7, 2010 in The Many Lives Of Humans
There’s an old guy on our street – I’ll call him Ray, because that’s his name.
Ray has lived on our street all his life, in the same room of a boxy, white two-storey house that hasn’t changed much since it was built around the Second World War, shortly before he was born. By all accounts, Ray was a good boy, to his father until he died in the 70’s, and to his mother who lived a good long life. Roy never married, never even dated as far as the long-term street biddies could remember. By the time we arrived to the street, Roy had become snickeringly known as the 65-year-old virgin.
by Bobdog
June 7, 2010 in The Many Lives Of Humans
There’s an old guy on our street – I’ll call him Ray, because that’s his name.
Ray has lived on our street all his life, in the same room of a boxy, white two-storey house that hasn’t changed much since it was built around the Second World War, shortly before he was born. By all accounts, Ray was a good boy, to his father until he died in the 70’s, and to his mother who lived a good long life. Roy never married, never even dated as far as the long-term street biddies could remember. By the time we arrived to the street, Roy had become snickeringly known as the 65-year-old virgin.
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