OK, folks, here are the Sentential Links that have been nominated by various readers of this blog. Enjoy. Most of these I've never seen before!
:: And I think "that's great you're a dumbass and a mother."
The breeze blew in from the ocean, the flags around the courtyard flowed and dipped, and a silver wind gauge spun...counter-clockwise.
:: And last, I must say that the Salvation Army bell ringer is not a real human being in anyone's mind. There's the pot and the sound of the bell and you, standing there like a cartoon character. The feeling of being a part of the scenery was so profound that when my shift was over and I walked into the Wal-Mart to buy a coke, it felt strange being allowed to walk among the people.
:: You're not allowed to kill civilians.
:: (A follow-up to the preceding one)
:: That sentence, deliberately, lacks specificity. The "you" is universal -- it refers to everyone. No one is allowed to kill civilians.
:: This sad, angry woman has somehow been convinced that it is impossible to believe in God without also believing in an illiterately literal reading of Genesis 1:16. She's painted herself into a corner in which she must reject not only evolution, but the existence of the dark side of the moon. She is forced to regard Neil Armstrong as the pawn of Satan.
:: "No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die."
:: That brings me down to earth, to every kindness, to every privilege I have ever known my whole life long. I light the candles, first one, than the other, hoping that the man will find the love he needs. That his friend will see his path unfolding before him, and that I will have the eyes to see it for myself, the next time sadness finds me, the next time I fear all hope is lost.
:: A dingy pink dump of a bar. SNOW WHITE polishes glassware behind the bar counter. CINDERELLA enters on crutches and sits down at the bar. A WOMAN WITH A CREWCUT, wearing an ugly burlap shirt and pants, sits at the other end of the bar, swigging a beer. SLEEPING BEAUTY is slumped over the bar. Asleep.
:: Today is my father’s birthday. He was born in 1926 and died in August of 1986, just shy of 60.
:: My wife can now claim to have fulfilled her lifelong fantasy of being manhandled on her bed by a large, strapping man in uniform.
Unfortunately, it was not her husband, there were actually six of them, and not a one had taken the time to wipe the snow off their boots on the way in.
:: Do you remember the other day, the day when I dropped you off at the SeaTac airport?
:: This is one of the weirdest damn songs ever to chart.
Thanks to Aaron, Mary, Scotty, Tal, and Roger for their submissions.