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Musing With Mitch
by Mitchell Kobriger
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For the head of homeland security, in my book, you can't get any better than a big dog.
For most of the year, it's a lonely existence on the spice rack. But for a few short glorious weeks, nutmeg *owns* Christmas.
I'll bet the Army/Navy game would draw a bigger audience if they let them use weapons.
Dear friends and neighbors: Feel free to keep sending those Christmas cards, but if yours doesn't include a snapshot of the family pet wearing a pair of fuzzy strap-on reindeer antlers, don't expect one in return.
Not everyone likes eggs, but unfortunately the nog industry is powerful and complacent. Alternatives? Don't hold your breath.
Are those KISS boys still wearing makeup?
Five straight years without a nativity scene fire. I think ol' Mitch has finally got this Christmas thing down pat.
Complimentary mulled wine, Boney M on the shop hi-fi and a wreath on the chair. I just love holiday haircut time!
The *10* days of Christmas. Just a suggestion. People simply don't have the time they used to.
Forget God -- things started going wrong for public education when they took lead paint out of the schools.
Three things old Mitch'll never ask for: Dressing on the side, a few short moments of your time, a "whoop whoop."
Now is still not the time for the full story on Red Dye #5. Someday, but not today. The world just isn't ready.
I think I'm losing my sight. I turned on Gilligan's Island the other day and they all looked different.
Give me six inches of fresh snow and a shovel and I'm in heaven.
Idea! Someone needs to invent Pouch o' Peanut Butter. Hell, maybe I'll do it.
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