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Nineteen months of pregnancy and all she has to show for it is a nine-pound, thirteen-ounce baby girl with the name of a middle-aged man.
Congratulations, Maxwell Drew Johnson, and good luck with the rest. At least you aren’t inside Jessica Simpson anymore.
"Elderly Americans rely on the United States Postal Service… I’ll come home to my home here in Washington and there will be some mail there. A lot of it is what some people refer to as junk mail. But for the people that are sending that mail, it’s very important. And, talking about seniors — Seniors LOVE to get junk mail. It’s sometimes their only way of communicating or feeling they’re part of the real world."
(Source: consumerist.com)
In September of 1896, the head of the Atlantic City Railroad in New Jersey received the following letter of complaint from an unhappy local named A. T. Harris. Little else is known.
(Source: The Oxford Book of Letters; Image via Wikimedia.)
To the Superintendent
Atlantic City Railroad
Sept 1896
Dear sir,
On the 15th yore trane that was going to Atlanta ran over mi bull at 30 mile post.
He was in my Pastur
You orter see him
Yore ruddy trane took a peece of hyde outer his belly between his nable and his poker at least fute square and took his bag most off and he lost is seeds. I don’t believe hi is going to be any more use as a bull.
I wish you would tell the President he is ded, for he is as good as ded ever since he was hit by yore trane.
Yours respectfully
A.T. Harris
P.S.—Be sure and report him as ded as he has nothing left but his poker. He was a red bull but he stand around in these days looking dam blue.
(Source: lettersofnote.com)
This is the very definition of “I can’t.”
I don’t know why this is making me giggle so much, but it is.