Fido Speaks Fuck-o
Too much wine last night. Why is this dog talking to me?
[Image by Arthur Heming]
Too much wine last night. Why is this dog talking to me?
[Image by Arthur Heming]
I’m always giving up the ghost to get the babies talking about what they saw before the hereafter or the herebefore or the never mind.
[Photo by asylumoffunk]
Sweet mercy, we have come a long way in the water that formed us.
[Photo by Robert Glen Fogarty]
I’ve been meaning to get a spelling bee in order for the prodigal sons and daughters of the revolution. Revolutions mean orbit, and orbit macht frei.
[Photo by Lukas]
It’s a healthy junkyard that keeps our souls safe and pining for yesteryear, but the carnival is always going on.
[Image by A. Bergeret & Cie, shared by The Casas-Rodríguez Postcard Collection]
I’m withered from the heat of my own sweater.
[Photo by Robert Glen Fogarty]
“I never heard a singer as good as Liam ever. He was just the best ballad singer I’d ever heard in my life, and still is, probably.” -Bob Dylan
[Photo by Staci Peters-Fogarty]
While others made do with worrying about mundane troubles like bill collectors and presidential elections, we were on the run from devilish super-entities. THIS was exciting!
[Photo by Seth Anderson]
Blessings were easier to count when they numbered in single digits, and he constantly tried to console himself with this basic arithmetic.
[Photo by Gustavo Mandú]
My commitment to what the kids call “blogging” is unfaithful and sporadic.
[Photo by Kit]