Frog Applause by Teresa Burritt for March 12, 2023

Space is just nature’s way of stopping everything from being in the same place.

This land is my land,

this land it my land,

it can’t be your land,

because it’s my land.

If this were an island,

it’d still be my land,

this land was made for only me.

Ya like in an elevator to her moon and full frontal view.

By Invitation Only.

Reserved for a few rock stars.

And what if I approach you at a different angle?

Don’t you need a placard of some kind like for handicapped parking?

So post no bills!

Not even with dinner, drinks and dancing?

First of all, I don’t want your stinkin space, and I don’t need no stinkin space, so get your butt back home and get dressed! OY!

Transporter malfunction results in massive explosion.

Your’s, Mine, & Ours.

Including the oil well?

C lol ockin Time

Occupied!

Space: the final frontier … to boldly go where no man has gone before …?

Always clean your grill with a scraper, and then crumpled aluminum foil. If you use a brass brush, finish it up with aluminum foil, to remove any brass bristles that have broken off and stuck to old grease coating the grate. Follow with paper paper towel, so that there is no accidental debris on the grate, which may become stuck to the food.

The grill should be nekked, 100%. Nothin’ sells burgers, like a nekked grill!

Failed Squatty Potty campaign slogan?

Speaking as a Male Feminist™, I strongly believe I should have a presence in women’s spaces, and my voice should be centralized.

(I’m definitely not creepy. At all.)

Be yourself, everyone else is taken.

Poison

Talk Dirty To Me

Kinda reminds me of the college town I lived in for a spell, where on a rowdy drinking night some co-ed chose to take a public leak in front of the attached garage at the side of the house I roomed in, right below my window. Yeah. As I saw it, she was violating my space….

It’s a matter of perspective, or POV….

…but I’ve already paid…