Mom always said if I cannot say anything nice, to not say anything.
The Biden Administration…anyth…
Enough said.
How about some Friday music instead? What would you like to hear? What? Yeah you aren’t here in my office so you can’t put in a vote. Sorry about that. I considered some more music from Traffic, but maybe that’s not for everyone.
Try this on for size:
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This music reminds me of Momma. And Momma reminds me of life in the former United States. And happiness.
And sanity.
Sigh...
Freddie
Ray, people will come, Ray.
They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway, not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past.
"Of course, we won't mind if you look around," you'll say. "It's only twenty dollars per person." They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it. For it is money they have and peace they lack.
And they'll walk out to the bleachers, and sit in shirt-sleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game, and it'll be as if they'd dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, they'll have to brush them away from their faces.
People will come, Ray.
The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball.
America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time.
This field, this game -- it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again.
Oh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.
And Biden won't be president forever.
Indeed fuzzy
And on one great day in early April the Cubs will beat the evil Dodgers
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