I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
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The only way to call their bluff, is to adjust one's own day to their times. Once they catch on, they will swap again, and voila - normality(at least for a time) :-).
how adorable is this little guy? Absolutely mesmerizing. I can see how parents say they just sit and stare at their babies all day (though perhaps it's the sleep deprivation talking)
Then, in just as furious a response, the displeasure that you would DARE take that ham away.
Madness. I'm sure that Idi Amin was more polite than Henry.