I ate some sugar free breath mints with sorbitol. No diarrhea but man did I have gas. I had the walking farts. Sounded like a motorcycle.

I have a Welsh brother-in -law. Several years ago when he was here we were watching reruns of Bennie Hill on TV and drinking several beers. I thought Bennie was amusing but not terribly funny. My brother-in-law laughed so hard that he turned the recliner that he was setting in over. That to me was funny and I laughed my ass off.

When I got out of the Army in 68 my Daddy (Dad north of the Ohio River) bought me a 69 Dodge Dart Swinger 340 4bl 4 sp hurst shifter tuck and roll interior 325 hp. It would hall ass.

I live in a small town in SC and have a concealed carry permit. When I am out at night I always carry.

I have and will not see it. Infantry 66-68

Great!!!!

They would not put the uniform of a soldier on. The protesters are all cowards. Think not! Just ask any one of them what have they done for their country. Better yet ask them what have they done for the black community.

Harlan has always been ruff. They used to settle labor disputes with dynamite. If I can remember the NG has been called in several times.

Forget computers. They call me and say I won three and a half million dollars and a new Mercedes.

The old houses in Charleston SC are great.

I have a 2016 Honda Accord. It has a rear view camera and when I turn on the right turn signal there is a right view camera attached to the right mirror.

Sounds to me like an outstanding excuse to get a new computer. Quick before you figure it out.

I am so sorry for your loss. They are just like children. One day you will see angel again.

My grandfather said that he was a jurist at Nuremberg. He also had transcripts of all the trials that he sat in on.

"Look at that dumb fuck, Daddy," said my 3-year-old from his car seat.
"Where?" I asked. There were quite a few around us, he could have been talking about any of them.
"The white one," he continued.
That narrowed it down. There was only one that fit that description.
"That dumb fuck is dirty," he said. "Why is that dumb fuck so dirty?"
It was a good question, a question a child might ask, but not a childish question.
"Some are dirtier than others," I replied. "It comes with the territory."
We were sitting outside Starbucks waiting for my wife. We were passing the time the way men do, talking about our feelings and cursing a little - some of us more than others.
"Do you like dumb fucks, Daddy?" he asked. It had an added air of the rhetorical.
"I don't like being too close to them," I answered. "They are pretty fun to watch, though."
My wife returned with our coffee and took a seat in the car.
"Mommy, did you see all the dumb fucks?"
I knew that she had.
"Honey," she said with a straight face. "They're called dump trucks."
"Dumb fucks," he repeated.
"Exactly," I told him, and we sipped our coffee as he watched the last one rumble past.