Dear Syria, Thank you for your gift of

Dear Syria, Thank you for your gift of the beautiful decanter and your cooperation during the gulf war. Not to seem ungrateful I would have really preferred your oil reserves

is because snow globes remind me of when I used to have an addiction to blow and I once spilled a bag of it and it reminded me of little snowflakes around me. Ahhhhh, memories.

They're like the corners of my mind. Misty water-colored memories...of the way we were. I put the snow globe back on the desk, disgusted with my self-inflicted melancholy. Helicopt

aurelius -- a rare, but devastating strain of neurobacteria -- had invaded my nostalgia cortex. "It's bad," said Dr. Oooo. "There's a 98% chance of permanent nostalgia." I was

near tears. Dylan was on again and I was thumbing through some old photos. They smelled like grandma's perfume. I took a selfie so I could remember this moment tomorrow.

It was too much really. Precious memories was playing & I couldn't recognize anyone in the old photo album. But the smell helped. I grabbed Gramp's recliner cushion & took a drag

of a cigarette left on the mantelpiece. If only Jimmy were here now, what would he say about all this? thing is, I knew exactly what he'd say and it wouldn't be good, not with the

scorch marks on the carpet and the purple stains on the sofa... not to mention the gashes gouged into the table as if by the paw of a great slavering hound. Oh Jimmy! Don't say you

forgot to feed the dog AGAIN. As Baskervilles, we have an duty to fulfill!" Jimmy looked guiltily at mommy, then over her shoulder, and ran when a giant maw opened in the shadows…