The Last Banana

The Last Banana
The sadness. The paper would not print my blog address. Now how shall posterity find me? I rant in the darkness like a two-bit candle, dripping wax down the wall and lowering the property values. What does that mean? I am no Earnest Hemmingway. Nor am I Weird Al, howsoever much I wish I was. Maybe I really wish I was Gore Vidal. In any event, I yam what I yam, all due respect to Popeye, and even though I may not amount to a hill of beans, I am one with the universe, beanless though it may be. I need a drink.