I've decided to drop the word 'wiseacre' from my vocabulary. As I wrote it in the post below, I felt myself age 75 years-no mean feat for a 32 year old. And the scary part? Afterwards I went to the outhouse with a copy of the Saturday Evening Post. The lovely Mrs. Jib is going to be pissed in the morning.
Just the same, I wish I had those crazy moving picture skills of kids today, because I'd be the wiseacre posting a parcel to the intertubes. Dagnabbit!
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