Saturday, November 13, 2004
Just reminding you that I rant and rave on the American Street on Saturdays, the day with the lowest readership figures. If you have extra time on your hands you could go there and read all the erudite posts and then my rants. And no, they don't pay me. Yet, anyway.
In fact, nobody pays me and that's starting to cause some problems. I have some plans to start selling cute stuffed snakes with mine own embroidery on this blog for a pittance of, say, a thousand dollars per snake. And you could decide what the name of the snake is and there would be real adoption papers and stuff!
Or maybe t-shirts with snakes slithering around the shoulders and peeking at you from the armpits? Or my memoirs, written on parchment that's made to look like freshly-tanned hides of Karl Rove and his ilk with ink that's as red as some states supposedly were. And if you lick the paper you die.
Or I could just do more real work and less scribbling here. Choices, choices. Why are they almost always between two unpleasant things?
Although I have to decide whether to bake my famous peasant cookies or my infamous walnut cookies today, and that's a nice type of choice. Probably the walnut cookies as I have some batter ready frozen.