Wasted Capitol

Oh Jan Killgalligan, you so disappoint me. You too, Mr. Durlak.
Such a momentous event in the chronicles of WORKSPACeDOUT and not
a word of condolence from either of you. The shame. After all, she did help turn the tables in play. Answering all our baited questions.

We, three, together, her mock panel (or mockery) and she, the mistress of ceremonies entombed in eternal grins and niceties. She nearly undid our smirks and fifth column postures. Afterward, we proudly walked the hallowed walls of government and academe alike,

Ablazoned in her image on make shift tee's. Announcing our devotion as to a Saint or patron there of, beggars, really, in the face of omnipotent funding and another day of rent.

Ahh! Those were the days my friends.

W/sadness

jc garrett

The Awakening

A tickle tongue

Between my toes

Kitty whiskers

Up my nose

Softly punching

Furry feet

Wake me from

My morning sleep

She Loathes Me Not

Catherine Conn (Kitty Carlisle), actress and singer: born New

Orleans 3 September 1910; married 1946 Moss Hart (died 1961; one

son, one daughter); died New York 17 April 2007.

Well known for her starring role as Rosa Castaldi in the 1935

movie "A Night at the Opera," her other film credits included:

"She Loves Me Not" and "Here Is My Heart," both opposite Bing

Crosby; Woody Allen's "Radio Days"; and "Six Degrees of

Separation."

The Death of Dorothy Killgalligan

Master of Ceremonies Bud Collyer (rear) poses with the panel of
the "To Tell The Truth" quiz show on CBS in 1957. Panelists from
left to right are: Dorothy Killgallen, Ralph Bellamy, Kitty
Carlisle and Hy Gardner. Associated Press file photo
http://www.jfkresearch.com/morningstar/killgallen.htm

Evening

Little kitten loves the evening time

When midges whoop and holler over the lawn.

She skulks out from the greenwood

To sway in ballet as she chases the beast.

The sun long gone and the dark not yet there

But soon the efflorescent electric light

Will grandstand her sallies up in the air.

Long white hair sucking out the surrounding black

As for the first time in the day she busies herself.

She sleeps from morn to night

And only arouses herself to digest her tea.

She is a luxury cat,

A scrumptious ball of fluff,

Who hunts phantasms at evening.

To Tell the Truth

Well, Art is Art, isn't it? Still, on the other hand, water is
water. And east is east and west is west and if you take
cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste much more
like prunes than rhubarb does. Now you tell me what you know.
Groucho Marx