Posted on 04/02/2019 8:15:15 AM PDT by K. Lewis
It was one of those nights; a night for reflection, regret, and whiskey. Nights that men tell tales of lost loves, passions, and dreams.
(Excerpt) Read more at jitterygoat.blogspot.com ...
Paging humblegunner. Please pick up the white courtesy phone.
In before the humblegunner snark.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies.
Why should anyone "read more" at your blog? Nothing prevents
you from posting the whole thing right here on Free Republic.
Hey... how about getting a job?
No wonder your goat is jittery.
“If you tell the wind the wind tells the trees.”
They start pimping so young.
Nights that men tell tales of lost loves, passions, and dreams.
Real men don’t talk about such goo. They tell of sexual conquests, most recent sex, and sex they want to have.
Whiskey just makes them lie about it.
Sounds like a snowflake type safe space might be missing it’s noobie!
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