With the exception of the war in Vietnam, 1968 was a pretty decent year.
Ah, as August nears a close, and the Dog-day cicadas pass quit calling we will enter the start of Autumn, which can be quite nice. As I am writing this morning it is 61F and sunny at Whitefish Point with bird migration in full swing.
Ahh, blonde jokes, this time offending men instead of women.
At Whitefish Point you learn to like Blue Jays.
Two myths pass in the night,
Oh-oh I remember all of those groups, and have even seen some of them in concert.
Another myth meets modern reality.
Sometimes comics expose the truth.
Always know you surroundings.
If only this was reality. And now on to politics! None of these need any explination.
Something in nature almost as bad as 45ism.
Back to nature tomorrow.
Michael's Place 