It seems that my most recent senior moment, having been extended indefinitely, is to be a nagger. Nag, nag, nag. All the nagging anyone might want, they could get from me. For unknown reasons, nagging is my forte. Really, I ought to think about opening my very own Nag Emporium, where folks can pay to get nagged. Come and get your nags, people. I should first search for any existing myNag(dot)com or myNag(dot)net, since you gotta get your domain set up (it’s *all* a set-up, I fear); of course, myNag(dot)org pleases more, and launching an online store occupies the mind. Blows it, too.
You gotta be careful how you say “Nagger Digger (ND)™” or you’ll get offensive, unintentionally. People from North Dakota or those in love with Napoleon Dynamite (oh, what a stick he had) could tell you to shut up if you haven’t been there. Well, I haven’t, and I won’t. So you can’t make me worth liking anyway. That blows it, too.
I wish I could remember what the point of this note was. Oh, well, I can go make some more notes with my strings. That’s a theory. It’s my string theory of the universe. Make notes with them. Vibrate. Some heady physicists seem to be catching up with my idea. Too bad. The are sooooo slow. Well, why wouldn’t they be? They are just silly strings. That does not blow it, does it? Now the wind, that is what really blows. With the answer in it, even.
Time marches on. That’s a different tune. Drummer, too.
(with a little luck, this will import into my facebook)