Dear friends, family,neighbors,readers, and some supporters of McCain/Palin: This is the last blog I'll be writing for awhile--or never. We are going away for a week, and when I get back, I'll find something else to do. Maybe paint a chicken. I've written 275 blogs. Every one since last May are already published in Pater Noster in Condoland Vol. III. All there is to write about anyway is what we had for dinner and the condition of my body. There's not much interest in that. If I decide to write something of meaning, I'll email you and let you know there's a blog waiting for you. Bye.
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3 comments:
As in the first stage of grief, I am in denial that there will be no more blogs. I'll wait.
I too, await with baited breath, but alas, the blogeth seems to be no more...perhaps another of the ross clan can pick up the baton that has slipped (thrown forcefully) from the grasp of the RED BARON!
Who (whom) will it be? Or will the baton be scooped up at the next event that needs to be addressed with great sarcasm and well timed comedic quips by the RED BARON?
Only time will tell!
All rising at thy name, Red Baron see
Thou art so magical and full of glee.
He is contented thy poor blog to be,
In silence I won’t hear his melody.
No want of writing hold it that I call
Love is too far to know what crisis is;
His thought for whose dear love I rise and fall.
Then, gentle blogger, urge not my amiss,
‘Las sometimes I want more than just a bite!
Of bird, of flow'r, or shape which it doth latch;
For times like that, there's one thing that's just right:
It’s his own vision holds what it doth catch;
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
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