Was Robert Frost the poet or the pro golfer? Or was that David Frost?
“Whose woods these are, I do not know;
“But that putter, I’m sure, belongs to Henry D. Thoreau.”
You’ll have to forgive me, today. My mind’s shot. Even the new toaster is too complicated. The old one worked just fine. Press it down, wait … toast! The new one asks questions. It wants to know things. It causes doubt, stress. I just want toast! Which brings us to more questions:
What if this week, following the latest Islamic attacks and random mass murders, Curt Schilling had equated radical Mohammedans with World War II Nazis?