And You Said It Couldn't Be Done

Anyone with a lick of sense who has been reading this b**g for any period of time knows about my campaign to reincarnate as something or other so I can keep on keepin' on. (Nobody will ever come back as Patrick Henry; he already admitted he had only one life.)

The cartoon section of my newspaper had this definition: "Reincarnation, rebirth in one or more existences, is an important tenet of some religions and belief systems. Most forms include a central personality which grows from new experiences in successive incarnations..." So, I guess I could be Ramses II and then come back as Ramses III, IV, and on up the Gregorian chant calendar.

Here's what the cartoon said:

Frank: "There's a fascinating article here -- you know, the idea of coming back again and again in different forms."

Ernest: "Wow! What do you think you'll come back as, Frank?"

Frank: "With my luck, I'll come back as a campaign promise and be gone again two months later."

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You don't like yodellers, you say? I call bullshit. I ran across an 11-year-old girl doing the yodel on Metacafe that caused me to tear all up. Crying-wise, you know. Check this child at this here place.

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Husband: "Are you ready yet?"

Wife: "For crying out loud, I've been telling you for the last half-hour I'll be ready in a minute."

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My favorite word today is kindly. N., what Big Ernie is. Def.: Opening your girl friend's beer and only taking one slug.