We Just Love How Deceased Mother of 18 Had Some Red On Him. OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! Said God, in an uncharacteristic bout of existential confusion. I was to learn, much later, that my mother, a strange creature whose sanity had been permanantly compromised after a tragic incident with a goose inspector and a fire hazard, and about 23 years of alcoholism, was at that time labouring under the intriguing misapprehension that badgers had a penchant for angel delight. Unless You Are A Nerd Throwback You Will Probably Appreciate How Bow-Legged But Happy Professional Roast Victim Asked To "Bang Behind The Bins". MY FACE IS NOT BRAILLE, MADAM. One of the gibberishes that first fell out of my thought-trumpet. <br><br>