I always claim I never read fiction, yet my three favorite books are all novels.
I insist not being interested at all in younger men, then find myself cooing like a dove in their presence.
Susannah says she never eats sweets, so why is Sara Lee in her freezer?
But here’s my biggest denial…I’m not at all political.
Then why am I reading Mark Paxson’s political blog The Dead Horse like it’s the I Ching? (mpaxson@substack.com)
Toss in, AOL’s homepage I say I only glance at.
Who am I kidding? I’m glued to every blurb like a cub reporter awaiting a murder at a good address.
I had to come clean. I’m just scared down to my socks about this evil 2024 election. Never say never bleats in neon since the inevitable you were sure could never happen looms like a twister, and I don’t mean Chubby Checker either.
Why am I being cryptic?
I guess it’s just too painful to print, like taking off your clothes after gaining 40 pounds, or Idaho, Missouri and Michigan.
I’m no Rhodes Scholar, but why is integrity not on the up and coming GOP ballot? Why is it that 91 criminal charges mean nothing?
It’s a pity the gangster Al Capone didn’t live now, since then he’d never go to jail for tax evasion. You’d see him on a float in the Macy’s Day Parade waving alongside Richard Nixon.
I’ve never been worried before since my faith in the betterment of souls has always been right up there alongside Christmas and L.L. Bean, two things a girl could always count on.
The definition of hypocritical is behaving in a a way that suggests higher morals or standards that may not be the case.
I don’t ever want to be guilty of that, so I’m glad, that I’ve come clean. ![]()
