I don't know what pushed CS over the edge but he has stopped talking to me, ever since he threatened to do so. Who knows - old people are unpredictable, except when they are angry.
Mom also gets mad when I talk about how much hippie-pussy the boy is going to one day get (see picture above). Maybe CS suffers from a similarly arranged moral apoplexy. He's always aligning me with some other values dressed up as bohemienne. He will make a great housewife also, someday.
I can never remember if it's the Philistines defeating the Israelites or if the other team won and the good guys are still allowed to love art modestly. You tell me.
The Old Testament is fading for me, like so much Faulkner that I never bothered reading, any more than about rather than the thing itself.
It is all heard by this idiot, fluff of sound and furry,
signifying bread crumbs.
Out, out, Greek salad,
this way to crouton crumbles.
all of our cucumbers have olived feta.
Horiatiki, Horiatiki, Horiatiki
Caper berries in this petty place,
from day to day.