Ground Hog Day
by Andrew Wyeth
by Andrew Wyeth
Well, Seattle feels like a giant deflated balloon this morning. What a heart-breaking loss. To make it worse, it's pretty hard (make that impossible) to put a happy spin on the last minute of that game.
As we sat in a befuddled haze watching the strange and endless half-time show, John said, "Why don't you write about this on the blog?"
I wouldn't know where to begin. Who are these famous people we've never seen before? How does she change costumes so fast? What are those creatures? Is this really real, or computer simulation? What does it mean? They should have wheeled out Sting or Bruce Springfield for a few minutes, just to give us old fogies something to look at.
I wouldn't know where to begin. Who are these famous people we've never seen before? How does she change costumes so fast? What are those creatures? Is this really real, or computer simulation? What does it mean? They should have wheeled out Sting or Bruce Springfield for a few minutes, just to give us old fogies something to look at.
No surprise that Punxsutawney Phil has seen his shadow this morning, predicting six more weeks of winter.
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