Jim Foster

It was getting late and one by one the lights began to go out all over London as all the little children were tucked into their beds with visions of sugarplums and in the case of some of the older lads, scantily-clad women, dancing in the their heads.

Every Tuesday morning, the folks on the second and third floor at City Hall have to sit around in their underwear.

I know a lot of you folks do that and far be it for me to be critical, but imagine how the dog feels. All the other pups are outside, running loose, peeing on hydrants and bare-naked.

… it occasionally spills over into my chain of thought – and my socks too come to think of it.

Why can’t the flippin’ Australians stand outside in two-feet of snow trying to put up a string of tacky icicle lights?

Advertisers do have a bad habit of running the side effects across the bottom so small or so fast that we sometimes miss the paralysis and sudden death warnings.

I do not write, nor have I ever written drivel, something stupid maybe, asinine perhaps and possibly even the ravings of a monkey with a typewriter, but drivel never.

Now I know this is stretching it quite a bit but isn’t that what Trump’s loyal, but brainless followers, are doing?

The caring lady will probably question the ‘successful’ part when she has to chip in half of the cost of the motel room

Women ask too much of saints these days. They want him to find them some guy who washes occasionally