Old Folk Songs Never Die
posted by Fang Bastardson at 11:11 AM
Monday, December 12, 2005
About Me
- Name: Fang Bastardson
- Location: Nowheresville, Kansas
Born in the wild to Canadian Timberwolves, Fang was wrestled from his mother's teat at an early age and placed in the custody of a government sponsored think tank in New York City. He escaped at age seven by gnawing off a doo-claw and has been riding a wave of self-righteous indignation to Nowheresville, baby, ever since. He is currently enjoying being a PhD (by marriage), but on the advice of his attorney has refused all comment except to assert an apparently deeply-held conviction that frozen strawberries should be thawed, not microwaved.
Previous Posts
- The Unbearable Blackness...
- Another Embarrassing Admission
- Remembering Pearl Harbor
- Mmmmm… Sacrelicious!
- That whole other post
- Even Odds
- Uber Dad
- Kind words for the President
- Thanksgiving Corn-ocopia
- “Walk The Line”
1 Comments:
I likely haven't heard that song SINCE 1969. I am back on my parents shag carpet, snapping my fingers and shaking my head, all over again, only now, I am shaking my head sadly.
val
9:24 PM
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