Thursday, May 18, 2006

It's a No-Love-Thursday:

Thought for the Day:
It's not the voting that's democracy, it's the counting.
Tom Stoppard

sunbath M-16
(There is something about heavily armed chics in bikinis, you know small arms nice asses that and tattoos always a plus.)

NLT:
While tonight is the normal meeting of this most venerated of drinking clubs, my time tonight is limited. I will make an appearance after work, only in my role as Good Samaritan and fund raiser for the orphanage. I am attempting to save both my liver and my money for the “Mother of all Birthday” parties. Little know fact, I have told different groups of people that it’s a theme party and they need to dress-up, so far I have covered, white trash, S&M, brides maids, Vegas Show Girls, Arabs, clergy, and Republicans so it should be fun to see who comes in costume, I am after all nothing if not a man who enjoys stirring the pot. I of course will be dressed as is my custom just like my idol, Mr. Tom Jones.

Class Photo:
MI unit
(I am the 14th in from the left, 3 row, the one with the devil may care smile on my face.)

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 17
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies:
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
So should my papers yellow'd with their age
Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme.

Your Hairy Pitted Beauty for the Week:
3 Geo Pitts
(Special thanks to Geo Larson, truly a giant among those who are counted as the illuminati of Blog. That and he sent me a shit load of hairy arm pitted women, one a week all summer long, yeah!)

Quote for the Day:
The joy of a spirit is the measure of its power.
Ninon de Lenclos

I remain, much like the poached egg of your resolve:

JQP esq.