"Bleh baton visits the wetland.Authorities People go gaga.Trolls remain unimpressed."
So we’re hosting the CWG 2010.Bah.I still get neither tickets,nor offs so i will be a humbug.
Call me a Neanderthal,but the primeval pull of fire is somthing i’m yet to lose.I mean i’ve lost some eyebrows to it kinda yet to lose.The sheer joy and bliss-leave aside the simple warm sense of being safe from a mean,evil pterodactyl eat pterodactyl world- even a small fire* provides is something burned fingers can never count.
Which is why i sulk.If it can’t light my hair,the hell its gonna fire my imagination.Which somehow people are wont to believe works best with a blinged out throwing stick.Really? Spread a message.Spread some warmth.Spread the Watterson Miracle :)
* For those deprived of a glorious fireplace -as me- a small fire is one enough to roast a small pig.Or make smores.To your taste
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