“Never underestimate the power of sleep.” I’m right there with ya on this one, Bazooka Joe.
Yes, I am a 50-year-old man who is not only chewing Bazooka Joe gum, but also reading the comic strip. What of it?
And, as far as the fortunes go, I’ll bet their success rate is as good as astrology’s.
Oil on canvas.
Her leering, simian face has eyes that are paradoxically both vacant and filled with primitive hatred.
If I wanted that face glaring after me, I’d punch an albino silverback gorilla and abscond with its children.
Why, Elon? Why have you unleashed your online MAGA Frankenstein to grunt and bark and parry after my sanity?
I don’t know what the hell I did to my computer camera — or if it just came like this. Everything is hazy. I might have cleaned it with something I shouldn’t have, and damaged the lens? I’ve heard that’s a thing.
Kinda sucks.
A buddy of mine, cooking in his kitchen: “You missed the fun — I just broke down a chicken.”
Me: “What did you do? Tell it a bunch of your jokes?”
I was joking around on Facebook just yesterday about “The Six Million Dollar Man” (1973-1978). I would have been a baby when this originally aired, but, like a lot of Gen X’ers, I can remember it pretty well from reruns. (I am linking here to the Potentium Youtube channel.)
I still remember being a little kid and trying to make the show’s (indescribable) signature sound effect when lifting something heavy.
Oil on canvas.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 