Hello......Anybody home?

I can't believe it? This place is like a tomb!

HHHHHHEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLoooooooooOOOOOO!

I can't believe this. Just yesterday this place was a ginning little stop on the Seaboard circuit, with people laughing and singing and quoting obscure poems and sharing the worst jokes and puns yet spoken by the tongues of men beyond the age of five.
Great Snakes Alive! We were in the middle of a game of Hogwash. Hogwash!!!, for goodness sake!

And believe it or not twenty-eight people had just danced jigs and sang Hosannas celebrating the long sought return of the highly regarded "Fish" - on a bike for goodness sake.

CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? HELLOOOOO!

Geez! It's cold down here in Wordplay and Fun.
I wish I had worn more than just this raincoat. What good is a raincoat when there is no one left to flash?
And what good is it for Doc Bill to send in those great URL's if there is no one left to read? I just don't understand .

Why did everybody tuck tail and run? If General Lee had tucked tail and ran at Manassas the South would have lost the war...uh...what I mean is - sooner.

This reminds me of a story written by Ray Bradbury
( Hey I like this. Now I can ramble on and on without feeling that I'm offending the subject and time constraints of the self-considered elite formally of this board.)

It seems that one night in the late fifties all the black folk in the american south slipped off during the night and boarded rockets to take them to Mars in order to free themselves of the white man's oppression. This was not one of Bradbury's best stories, his point was that the southern white and the southern black were intra-culturally bound and the vacuum that was left by the blacks departure was a great tear in the fiber of southern culture. Yeah but, Bradbury, you miss the point, the dynamics of cultures are such that after a period of mourning, twenty million Mexicans, from across the border stood waiting to be oppressed. And romance, sad but true, is almost always subservient to economics.

That story always reminds me of my Uncle Wesley. When the army temporarily assigned a black truck driver to his unit during World War Two, Sargent Wesley said, "I ain't shooting no krauts while I got a negro in my outfit."

The army didn't shoot Uncle Wesley, but he spent the rest of the war in jail in France.

Oh well, I guess I'll try to join one of the off shoot groups if they will let me, but meanwhile I'll stay right here fighting the good fight against people who can't seem to comprehend the concept of absolution of transgressions and absolute love without qualification.

Oh Hell! Now I can't reach the "back" button to get out of here...Help...HELP!...
HELP!!!!
Somebody please.