Popeye said it best:
"Oh, what am I? Some kind of barnicle on the dinghy of life? Oh, I ain’t no doctors, but I knows that I’m losing me patience. What am I? Some kind of judge or lawyers? Maybe not, but I knows what law suitks me.
Careful there, don’t ruffle me feathers. What am I? I ain’t no physcikisk, but I knows what matters. What am I? I’m Popeye the Sailor."
So what are you Beckdawrek? You are you.
A llama, but it’s time to retire and become a duck.
And life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.
John Lennon was so succinct. Love that.
I love your new avatar
I used it as the theme of my law school admission essay. It must have worked, as I got in. Well, there were other factors at play, but I got to know the registrar once I was accepted to the school, and she said, “Your essay, based on 'Life is what happens…” struck a chord with the acceptance committee." It’s been a personal motto ever since.
You astound me @spoons.
At this very moment I have that same quote on my fridge. Seems to suit my life.
As said before this thread floors me. It must be a sign or something
Beck, why? I’m just an ordinary guy, living an ordinary life. I’m nobody special. Why would I astound you?
“Two-Thousand Yard Stare?” It’s how I’ve been feeling. Beat up.
There’s a song in that statement.
It’ll come to me.
Oh. I get it.
I often use a ‘resting bitch face’ when I’m going through a traumatic event. Those happen at least 2 times a day.
I hope your horrors get easier to deal with, Mikey.
I’m pulling for you.
n / m
You’re my little potato,
I dug you up,
You come from underground.
Lennon was a complete and total Wanker.
Not for long…
Granny Hawkins likes her some Lennon.
All hail Marx and Lennon!
(That’s Groucho Marx and John Lennon, by the way.)
This joke works so much better when spoken, and not in written form.
A line in ‘American pie’ says “Lennon read a book on Marx”
That’s how I heard it, anywhoo.
I like pie. I’m trying to kill a Coconut Cream one that I bought on a whim from the discount bin. Bad decision.
But the levee was dry.
You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song
Because the halftime air was sweet perfume?