Monday, May 11, 2009

Posted by Old Father William at 7:46 AM
Commuter note: Arthur heard both "Writers Almanac" and "Engines of our Ingenuity" and OD'ed on pretense. Found dead in his Pruis, still gripping latte
"Too late or still too soon too soon to make lots of bad love and there's no time for sorrow. Run around, run around with a hole in your head 'til tomorrow."
-----They Might Be Giants