I've found the concept of the elephant graveyard interesting for quiet a while. It is fiction, with a powerful mythical quality that I can't help but find fascinating. Like something out of a fairy tale.
It is my firm belief that we have a fly graveyard in our windows. Flies from all over the country come to our home to die. Some of them wander around aimlessly between the glass panes, before ending up on their backs, dead. As dodos.
And as an add-on. Not sure if anyone reading this cares, but Darren Sproles, gods (if I were the least bit religious, all kinds of expletives would have been inserted here. I choose to go with a very non-denominational expression instead)! The very definition of a game-winning player.
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I would like to take this opportunity to temporarily absent myself from my regular denomination and leave an offering at the alter of Darren Sproles.
Holy. Crap.
(Reist. Yes, well, obviously. Reist, indeed.)
Yeah, it's awe-inspiring, is what it is. I can't believe they have both LT and him. Fuckers.
Oh, man. LT doesn't count. LT should be playing soccer, what with his fakind injuries left and right.
(Woes. Yes. Woes.)
FakinG. Should have said fakinG,
Soccer. I've never understood what's so fascinating about that sport.
Even so, you have to admit he has had some fairly impressive numbers.
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