Or at least that's what I'd like to believe. How often are our judgements clouded by external stimuli, the insiduous propoganda of our generation?
Sometimes I wish I could just up and go live on a forgotten hillock somewhere .Since mountains, REAL ones with SNOW, are scarce around here.
But when it comes down to it, I can't. A fine specimen of well-broiled poultry, that's me.
One of the few fun things about scouring with the Karcher.
