Archives, be damned...

..still working on it... hang in there, my peeps.... the first sign of improvement is acknowledging the problem... yes... I need help....dadburn archive importation... still, it could have been worse... I could have been acusing myself of drinking too much or something....

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Alright, dammit...

...tonight's the night, fellow MuNuvians... my papers have finally cleared immigration, and I'm disembarking...

...oh, and if I totally wreck this, I hope that one of you lovely citizens will leap to my aid... a MT Guru, I surely ain't... but, hey... let's give it a spin...

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Here I am...

...sorry for the delay in getting stuff posted, but the Holiday is keeping me busy.... I will begin moving my old SWG blog over here next week... bear with me, people... the Easter Bunny is a hard task master... she may look cute, but rest assured, she's an ANIMAL....

...also, I would like to thank everyone for nominating me for membership in the Munuvians.. I am honored.. truly.. so, sorry for the delay, next week will begin the migration... promise... oh, and Happy Easter....

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Riding on a Railroad Train

Ogden Nash

Some people like to hitch and hike;
They are fond of highway travel;
Their nostrils toil through gas and oil,
They choke on dust and gravel.
Unless they stop for the traffic cop
Their road is a fine-or-jail road,
But wise old I go rocketing by;
I'm riding on the railroad.

I love to loll like a limp rag doll
In a peripatetic salon;
To think and think of a long cool drink
And cry to the porter, allons!
Now the clickety clack of wheel on track
Grows clickety clackety clicker:
The line is clear for the engineer
And it mounts to his head like liquor.
With a farewell scream of escaping steam
The boiler bows to the Diesel;
The iron horse has run its course
And we ride a chromium weasel;
We draw our power from the harnessed shower,
The lightning without the thunder,
But a train is a train and will so remain
While the rails glide glistening under.

Oh, some like trips in luxury ships,
And some in gasoline wagons,
And others swear by the upper air
And the wings of flying dragons.
Let each make haste to indulge his taste,
Be it beer, champagne or cider;
My private joy, both man and boy,
Is being a railroad rider.

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