Jim Foster

… the kids will have to sell the furniture sitting beside the For Sale sign on the lawn to raise enough money to bury you

Somehow Mary and I sipping warm milk at midnight while staring out the window at the snow didn’t seem to compare with last year’s festivities when the police raided our friends’ house.

Up here in God’s country, Jean Chretien was our Prime Minister and will long be remembered for putting a choke-hold on a protester teaching us all that you don’t screw around with Canadian politicians.

The SPCA reported that the reindeer appeared to be well fed but may have been drinking since the lead animal’s nose was bright red.

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.