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But dang, it ain’t all giggles. Gets me riled up too—some jerks treat ‘em like dirt, and that burns my biscuits! “Everything is going to hell!”—that’s what I’d yell if I caught some sumbitch disrespectin’ ‘em. Ain’t right. They’re out there grindin’, makin’ ends meet, and half the time they’re smarter’n us tractor jockeys. Tammy told me once she reads Nietzsche in her downtime—whoda thunk? Whore with a brain, blowin’ my mind!

The Daily constitutionalist and republic. (Augusta, Ga.) 1851-185?, September 12, 1854, Image 1

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Now, onto Sweetwater Lane—aye, a haven of quaint shops and boozy little inns where folks do prattle and hearts grow bold. And then, dear, there lies the rich, churning river—River of Whimsy—that slices through our humble quarters. Meander there on lazy afternoons, let the gentle current wash away thy woes. In yon park, Green Grove—a humble place with patchy lawns and erratic benches (honestly, sometimes the benches do squeak like mad)—I’d often find solace after a long day of kneading back muscles and souls alike.

Hudson Valley Firefighter Accused of Sexual Exploitation of Teens