Well, I�ve made several attempts at writing about the loss of the Columbia, but they�ve all come out sounding awfully sappy. The pre-pubescent bmarkey was fascinated by the space program & would be very disappointed to find out that my last vacation was not spent on the moon. The so-called �adult� me feels pretty much the same way.
Instead, I will now relate a fragment of a dream I had a couple of years ago, in the hope that you will find it amusing:
(I guess that would make him Pope-eye, wouldn�t it?)
That�s it. I can�t remember any more of the dream, just that the Vicar of Christ was a short, bald, tattooed, pipe-smoking sailor with over-developed forearms and the ability to contort his flexed biceps so that they appeared to be battleships, prone to fits of intense violence brought on by the consumption of canned spinach.