DON'T RILE ME UP

At quarter to eight on a Saturday evening, I heard loud rain outside. What is this world coming to, when twenty to thirty something single yuppies cannot go outside and rut like crazed weasels while bar-hopping and getting stinko, as I believe they are wont to do?
It's shocking, is what.

At that precise moment, I was noshing on a slice of something the manufacturers chose to call a "snacking cake", which sounds delightfully innocent. As a non twenty to thirty something middle-aged Dutch American, I am defined by innocence.

Nor have I ever rutted like a crazed weasel.
To the best of my recollection.


In all honesty, I haven't had a "normal" Saturday evening in years. So I don't really know what regular folks do then. Even though I disapprove wholeheartedly. Both rutting and getting stinko are not things I do after getting off work. Or even on my days off.


Never-the-less, I disapprove of others doing that.
It seems so intemperate. Anarchical.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================