I started to say, “I don’t think about it” but I can’t remember what I don’t think about. If I say, “I don’t think about it” that would mean I just did, but I didn’t because I can’t remember. You know what I mean, don’t you? If so, don’t tell me because I’d rather not think about it, whatever it is.

I don’t like National Public Radio because of the whining, sissy voices.

The women announcers annoy me too.

We have too many roosters and my wife won’t eat them if I butcher them, but I need the practice cutting off their heads in case our farm is overrun with terrorists.

It’s a good idea, don’t you think?

My wife thinks the idea is strange.

My mom thinks I wrote this post about her.

I did, but there is nothing she can do about it.

You say I am unsociable like it’s a bad thing.

Analyze the word and your own life.

Report back in ten years if you can find me, if it still matters to you.

The label is often sticky on both sides, isn’t it?