Keep Those Sheets Starched and Ironed, Me Buckos
2 March 2010
And bleached. Always bleached.
It is kind of sad, but it is instructive. If you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
Even if it is helping “his people” (which people he remembers when it suits him and assumes are , to coin a phrase, shiftless and lazy) he can’t help himself. It’s automatic. It’s like the infant’s mouth seeking the nipple. Here he is, raging!
