...and another bar of soap.
But then again...
And it's time to hand out the presents!
To KJ: A sweet, sweet, law suit (taken pro bono, of course) that slaps the ACLU silly and results in allowing one's faith in God to once again be expressed wherever, whenever and however one so chooses, in accordance with the designs of those who framed the Constitution. Plus attorney’s fees. And…as a kicker...a package of tax breaks.
To Pile On: One more year of Roger Clemons pitching for the Astros. And (in a few short years…trust me) to have Nolan Ryan’s grandson marry the fetching Ms. Onlette and produce the next Texan to win 30-games and the Cy Young.
To Cassandra: A phone that never rings. A clock that never ticks. A cup of fresh, fragrant coffee always within your reach. And the peace and quiet necessary for you to become the truly great writer that yet slumbers within you. And two reams of paper to get your a** started.
To a former european: French lessons.
To Cricket: Wood smoke and oranges. It is the perfume of contentment. Enjoy.
To Portia: A cab whenever you raise your hand. A walk across the
To Masked Menace: A couple of more years on your mush. For crying out loud, you look like a freakin’ kid, MM. And lose the cat. We hate cats because we own four of the evil bastards.
Okay. So I'm jealous. Get over it.
To Pooke: EasyPass, baby. Your whole life on Easy Pass. Easy Pass and an open lane.
To Liberal Larry: Penis enhancement. It may help clear up a bunch of things, Lar.
And to my vastly under-appreciated readers from their plainly over-served host: Merry Christmas, peoples. I hope you get want you wanted. And if not, that you at least get some new underwear.
God bless us all, everyone.
I love you guys.