I'm moving... to http://greenowlster.blogspot.com/, and I don't even need to borrow anyone's truck.

Watch this; it's comical:

http://www.jackspade.com/shop/fashionshow07.php

And listen to this! It's Campbell:

Last night after dusk I sat on my front porch for a while. It was lovely outside; fireflies and dark blue sky and dog-and-cricket chatter... I tend to imagine that they're talking to each other, the dogs and the crickets, each group to the other, saying "you shut up," ... "no, you shut up"... the way restless girls at summer camp shush each other and giggle at night in their cabins ad infinitum, until the shushing and giggling becomes an interminable, indecipherable nightnoise. I just read something about porches, oddly enough... something Walker Percy wrote... a porch as a metaphor for southern religion... and maybe it was really something owed to G.K. Chesterton, and Percy was borrowing the imagery... Anyway, he was writing during the civil rights movement, referencing the stoic white Christians of the South, who sat on the "porch" of faith and enjoyed the appearance of ownership, and the altitude above passers-by, even though they'd never even been inside the house, and didn't know what it looked like... but last night in the dark blueness I thought more about porch accessories... I thought I should get one of those candles that wards off mosquitoes... that I should get a plant or two... and then Sean came over... went inside and informed me that something in my refrigerator didn't smell so good... I knew what it was... or what it had been; it had been soup at one time. But by last night, it was a substance that merely perched itself on the stoop of soupiness, masquerading as soup, watering soup's plants and patching soup's screen... So I carried it to the alley out back, and dumped it over the fence to the place of its final judgement.