September 19, 2010
Five sirens
in fifteen minutes here in the back of beyond, and you begin to wonder what might be up.
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in fifteen minutes here in the back of beyond, and you begin to wonder what might be up.
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I’m sure you saw this coming
I did. And the sirens sounded like Freddie Mercury.
I just wrote comments with vague references to Odysseus’s sirens, wax in my ears and Bobby Goldsboro (See the tree? How big it’s blown…) but they couldn’t bear up to the editing. I storked them.
Stork.
And as I was drifting past the Lorelei / I heard the slinky sirens wail – Whooo! / So look out, sailor, when you hear them croon /You’ll never be the same again — oh, no / Their crazy music drives you insane — This way!
Bobby Goldsboro!
Honey, I miss you.
Sirens still a-wailing. Every emergency vehicle in the dang county hunkering down by this smoldering house, flashers a-flaring.
This is not helping my search for my wandering cat.
Maybe it’s your county’s Lost Cat Emergency Warning System
If it is, it’s the stupidest system anyone ever devised.
what’s up? The jig, Sheila. The jig.
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