The suburb where I live, though it directly abuts Minneapolis itself, is remarkably like some small, picture-postcard town. Witness, for example, the fact that last weekend was “Whiz Bang Days.” Whiz Bang Days! We are deeply committed to the Whiz and the Bang here. And for the Sunday-night finale of same, there were fireworks. Fireworks shot from a park less than two blocks from my home. My wife and I watched it all from the patio. It was lovely.
Who wants a cartoon? Who? Who?
And who wants annotations?
- I am, in fact, an ordained minister, and I have done quite a number of weddings. Did one a coupla weeks ago, for a friend-of-a-friend. And none of the attendees were themselves Men of God, no. But plenty of them were very, very deeply religious, it seemed. And they hated me. I didn’t have a church of my own, did I? And didn’t I seem a little…casual? I have in fact never before been asked where I went to seminary so many times in one day. Now, of course, I tried to handle it in as graceful a manner, as polite and defusing a manner, as I could. Vincent, however, is funnier.