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Well, we made it

"I'll tell you where to stick your
'no white after Labor Day' rule!"
—Missy, Empress of All the Light Touches
Whatever it is that compels you human Americans to celebrate freedom by recreating the terror of war in your own backyards each July 4th evades my understanding. I, Fenway Bartholomule, am an unflappable mule (except when visited upon by an Avenging Phantom Line from Beyond or a Place where One is Taken to Die) and was therefore unfazed by the sounds, smells, and sights of your explosive festivities, but poor FarmWife spent the evening holding her trembling chihuahua and experiencing strong feelings of resentment. FarmWife associates July 4th with bad things: the memory of her childhood dog Brumby, for instance, running away and being hit by a car (he suffered a collapsed lung, but survived). 

Luckily, Labor Day is coming! I think that's when the working people of the world celebrate their hard work by not working. Oh, and not wearing white dresses and open-toed shoes together. Or something like that.

Ears,
FenBar

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