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Hi. I'm trying to think of another description to put here. Any ideas? I'll try again at 420.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Did you even know the song? Tis a sad, sad dity it is...


In a cavern, in a canyon,

Excavating for a mine,

Dwelt a miner, forty-niner

And his daughter Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling

Oh my darling, Clementine

Thou art lost and gone forever,

Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Light she was and like a fairy,

And her shoes were number nine,

Herring boxes without topses

Sandals were for Clementine


Drove she ducklings to the water

Every morning just at nine,

Hit her foot against a splinter

Fell into the foaming brine.


Ruby lips above the water,

Blowing bubbles soft and fine,

But alas, I was no swimmer,

So I lost my Clementine.


Then the miner, forty-niner

Soon began to peak and pine,

Thought he oughter jine he daughter,

Now he's with his Clementine.


In my dreams she still doth haunt me,

Robed in garments soaked in brine;

Though in life I used to hug her,

Now she's dead, I draw the line.

Although I assume we cease to exist after death on this planet, who knows what they're doing out there. If there is any degree of life after death and BEFORE Nirvana, it is a degree of people too messed up to work toward Nirvana. So, that sort of proves that the ghosts we come into contact with are generally the dumber set of ghost clique-ery.

Dumb ghosts seem to have some sort of liberal idea that they are entitled to be in my home. Most ghosts seem to think that the home in which they appeared for the first time. They've head bad stories and just to freak them out, I have them watch Betelgeuse every morning just to show them that I COULD bring them to dust. No one cares if you dust a dead guy.

My most annoying little ghost Friend (I don't know why but this one seems to be in most of my ghosts stories. Anyway, now she is trying to change the words to Clementine. She's a devil...no pun intended. This should be good.


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