Cranky Large Medium reading, 1 November

Go away.

What in the name of All Saints are you still doing here? Haven't you eaten enough candy you're forced to spend the day in isolation, like the rest of us? Why, oh, why are you pestering me? If I give you some candy bars will you go? No? How about I tell you a little nonsense -- will that make you skedaddle? Great! Here you are:

You are bookish, chatty, and somewhat relaxed in your manner (some, like me, might call you slovenly). You are like a chameleon, blending in with your environment, and still manage to be upright and uptight about things like truth, justice, and the Marvel Comics way. Like a week-old kitten, you are cloyingly cuddly, preferring to curl up at home under most circumstances, but can throw a party worth attending, if pressed to do so.

There. Was that sweet enough to tide you over until next year? Are you happy? Too bad so sad. At least you're merely rotting your teeth and your mind, and not feeding worms, the way these people began to do on this date in history: Charles II of Spain, Tsar Alexander III, George Papandreou, Mamie Eisenhower, Severo Ochoa, Guillaume Durand, Theodor Mommsen, Ezra Pound, William Styron, Giulio Romano, Hugo Distler, Andre Hicks aka Mac Dre, Lyle Russell Cedric "Skitch" Henderson, King Vidor, James Broderick, Phil Silvers, Noah Beery, Jr., Adrienne Shelly, Man o' War, Walter "Sweetness" Payton, Jean Nicolet, Nikolai Przhevalsky, Dale Carnegie, Theodore Alvin Hall, Paul Tibbets,

and nobody with a decent video kicked, on this date, so I'll just ask you to leave me alone...

via Alicia Beth Moore aka Pink.

Have you left yet?
Happy birthday, anyway.