This year for my birthday I give myself one Maniacal Clown of Death. He’s really cute. And he shoots acid out his eyes.
Twenty-nine is an odd year. Everything is for keeps now. Thirty will just be a redundant reminder. How does that one sneak up on people?
“How does that one sneak up on people?”
Silently and completely.
A thirty-year old going on thirty-one.
Well, yeah, but you’re so old…
Your birthday too? Congrats! Glad you liked the horse-whisperer phrase - seems so apt for what Karl Rove does.