Well at least self-righteous navel gazing leads to the death of romanticism... Our neighbors, everyones neighbors somewhere. “I wouldn’t counsel anybody to invest in logging,” he said. “Invest in Google.” Irene good night, Irene good night, Good night Irene, good night Irene, Ill see you in my dreams. Last Saturday night I got married, Me and my wife settled down, Now me and my wife we are parted, I think Ill go out on the town. Sometimes I live in the country, Sometimes I live in town, Sometimes I take a great notion To jump in the river and drown. I love Irene, God knows I do, Ill love her til the seas run dry, But if Irene should turn me down, Id take morphine and die. Stop rambling, stop your gambling, Stop staying out late at night, Go home to your wife and your family, Stay there by your fireside bright. nytimes/2014/11/16/us/town-that-thrived-on-logging-is-looking-for-a-second-growth.html?rref=us&module=Ribbon&version=context®ion=Header&action=click&contentCollection=U.S.&pgtype=Multimedia#
Posted on: Sun, 16 Nov 2014 18:02:00 +0000