Posted 9:20 PM by sport

Lately… don't know why… it's been things sticking out of walls. A paneling brad, shook loose by spooks. A slot wall prong, laden with blister-packed store products. A long, hinged towel rack. A coat hook. An inadequately bent-down nail, protruding through the obverse of a rustic door.

All of these and more, waiting to snag, tug and scrape at me and my garments as we hurry through the rooms and hallways of life. It feels as if they are saying, "hold on there, mister… not so fast!" But why? Why are my perambulations any of their beeswax? What is WITH these clutching corridors of enforced reflection? Like stationary skeeters a-pricking my conscience and a-pulling my cardigan, they relentlessly intrude upon my peace of mind.

Or am I the intruder? Does the convex catch ...bulging from the arm of yet another ruined waffle henley... whisper: "You heard the partition. G'wan… beat it… there's a world out there! Git!"
Dunno, friends.

But I do know this much:
3 "new" Berrie Jigglers are on the way:
"Sheba," a faux-Indian deity,
"Kilroy" ...the GI graffitto made manifest in rich, redolent, oily "Quiverall" with a schnozz like Mr. Natural,
and a nameless, running police officer.
Can't wait, and I'll suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous interseptal juttroddery if life will only keep these gelatinous joy-bringers a' coming.