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I don’t think I ever mentioned this. I had a great uncle on my mother’s side. His name was Marshall Rowe. He played in a marching band in New Bloomfield, Pennsylvania. Every weekend in the summer for the time he was 14 until he died at age 68. He played the clarinet. Everyone, apparently, compared […]
The only way to make America grate again! Is by moving cheese grater production back to our shores! Hallelujah!
I got nothing, gang. Fresh out of ideas. The wagon has come to a screeching halt. My parents called yesterday, very upset about exposing the family connection to a certain movie monster. Apparently it’s not ok to talk about. See ya tomorrow!
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