Mother Goose was also a bad parent. Consider:

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do;
She gave them some broth without any bread,
She whipped them all soundly, and put them to bed.

Whipped them soundly? I demand that she go to rehab.

(people, the rehab quip is social commentary; mull it over)

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.
If Peter Piper picked...

Stupid question, but how did Pete pick pickled peppers? Peppers are only considered to be pickled after they've been through a long process that I imagine involves boiling, vinegar, and elves. Pickled peppers do not grow on trees, bushes, shrubs, or anything, for that matter. Mother Goose is a fraud. I demand an apology.

Tomorrow: something interesting.

Some days the words just flow. This week has not been one of those days. Today is Thursday, or, as I call it, Wednesday night. I bring it up, not because it's interesting, but because my stomach hurts: it's filled with gas. You're undoubtedly asking yourself, what does that have to do with Thursday? And you very well are entitled to ask just such a question. Another question you might be asking yourself is, "what's the capital of Finland?" You really didn't intend to think about Finland today, did you? See what happens when you don't mind your own business? Here's something else to think about:

Take a four-hour nap, and you wake feeling incredibly rested (and maybe a little groggy). Get four hours of sleep when you were supposed to be sleeping through the night, and you wake feeling like you'd rather rather quit your job (or whatever) than get up. Isn't sleep interesting. And hypocritical. Yes, I've come right out and said it: sleep is a big, fat hypocrite. So take that.

No offense, but I'm not posting anything today except to say that my knees hurt. I'm either growing or aging, I'm not sure which.