I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in ... long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. (Bull Durham)

On Sunday, I lost my last great-aunt ... and my last living connection to a world long since forgotten. No advancements in technology can preserve our stories - if nobody is around that remembers them.

When I was six, an uncle taught me how to properly fall off a horse. And plenty of other life-on-the-farm things. All entirely wasted on me. I imagine this is the type of down-to-earth advice I could dispense.

For this to make sense? You need to know what a "safety town" is. And that a "chicken flying contest" is a real thing. Attend a rural county fair for proof. Or search YouTube. Using that exact phrase. But that's no fun.

Is this a Silly Sunday? I guess it depends on one's perspective. And awareness. I would posit that history has demonstrated that those seeking destiny and glory ... are often quick to find it. Sorry, Bob the Turkey.

Silly Sunday! I am one-quarter Italian. So. Family gatherings meant two things. Plenty of food. Probably not helped by some stereotypically owning restaurants. And bocce. Yeah. Some creative liberty here. For humor.

Silly Sunday! My memories are complex and go far beyond snapshots. My "database" also stores sounds, smells. What I was thinking. How I was feeling. I can "time travel" to relive any moment. Something NOT ideal for dreams.

Like any child I was raised on sandwiches. Some odd - scrambled eggs mixed with miracle whip. Some normal - fried bologna with ketchup. But. I didn’t ponder goose liver until I was in my teens. When I did? Yeah. I stopped.

We spend the first half of life being taught. But. Few dedicate the second half to learning. Why? Because we become children blanketed in false wisdom. And? It is discomforting to awake in darkness realizing we know nothing.

Silly Sunday? No. True story! I took photos. These geese were on the roof of Kohl’s in Mentor. Their pond was obliterated in the late 90s. Sidenote: the mom and dad goose that spend summers with me returned last week.

(c) The lives of some of my family revolve around horses. An uncle raised and raced “trotters” for forty years at Northfield Park. If you see a human as a hobby? Find a different one. PS. Math? Hell - joke. I’m good. Great job!

There are so many stories out there - waiting to be heard. And saved.

Continuing this thread. Everything. Everyone. Related. Someway. Somehow. My mother spent her childhood summers on the family farm in the Akron area. In the house where her catatonic grandmother “rocked” in her chair.

There are times to question the system and push for change. Grievances from the disadvantaged? You listen – or risk revolution. Complaints from those with money, power or authority? You worry – they want more.

My 3rd great grandparents were Kansas “dirt farmers”. Home? Where they lived, worked, died – and were buried. But? The farm was abandoned during the Dust Bowl. So? They’re now resting in some random person’s backyard.

The cold steel of reality is the machinery of humanity. We are a collective of self-feeding locusts. We produce. And. We consume. Gradually. Methodically. Grinding up into dust any soul unfortunate to be born its fodder.

Yeah. I guess this is the best I can do today. At least I tried. Afterall. It's the lack of thought that counts. Moo.

The original MST3K “Turkey Day Marathon” ran from 1991-1995. Movie sign!?! My saddest struggle in life has been “humor”. Since I’ve long abandoned hope of finding someone that would understand it. Let alone laugh at it.

Back in my day, "Old Yeller" was required reading in Middle School. Add a few more ingredients like Catholic bible study, a love of music and a tolerance of "Saturday Night Live - and what do you get? An idea! You can view this "thing" as a minute-sized animation on my YouTube channel - where a few more details are included in the description. Click the link in the bio or click here: https://youtube.com/@TheKrumblz

Print. Printer. Printing. Farm. Famer. Farming. There is no greater satisfaction to be had than conjuring forth something from nothing – with only the raw ingredients of imagination. And like a coming mindstorm, there is always a story ... brewing on the back burner. Hay?!? The Folkz have faces!?!