Tommy "T.D." Mischke writes about marriage. Tradition be damned, this is a great post.
I went into my marriage knowing full well how badly I screwed up some important things in my life. Why assume I could master this? I only agreed to give it one hell of a shot.
Could it be put better than that? (Note to The Affiliate: Don't read that post ;))
Barreiro going to KSTP? I think it's funny that Ron Rosenbaum, who was fired from KSTP, is representing Barreiro on a possible move to KSTP. I'd put him on from 5-8, after Soucheray. He's better than Matt Thomas by a long shot. You could eliminate the need for the last half-hour of sports talk on GL, and while I wouldn't want an asset like Barreiro going to waste by preempting him for Twins games in the summer, KFAN had no problem doing it with the Timberwolves games, so it's doable.
I've tried to comment over at Shot in the Dark, but Wordpress won't let me sign in, no matter how often I register and get a password. In any case, I'll link this story as my response to Mitch's post. Not to mention that the guy in Mitch's story was carrying a gun and still couldn't prevent his car from being stolen. (via Norwegianity)
On a lighter note, here's an animal e-mail I got:
8 am-Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am-A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am-A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30am-Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
Noon-Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:30-Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3pm-Chased a squirrel! My favorite thing!
5pm-Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7pm-Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8pm-Watched TV with my people! My favorite thing!
11pm-Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear in their hearts, since it clearly demonstrated what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards! Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet while he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow--but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released-and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him
in an elevated cell, so he is safe....for now.
Your Wedding Bells leader.