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Morning!

I saw six big John Deere combines working a golden quarter of wheat yesterday. Each one of the six six times as large as the Massey 510 I spent most of my time in. That's 36 combines rolling down the timeline.

Whatever the intent, I suggest a start over. There is some evidence of anger in the opening sentence, and the insulting tone won't help the thread get off to a good start. That is my prognostication.

Yep, Biden and Harris are Hamas all the way. You'd have to be blind not to see it.

And what about that Palestinian dude Kamala Harris married. Do we know where he came from? According to Facebook, he's Hamas through and through. Why else would he be flying the Minnesota State Flag over his boathouse?

Ok, so technically, the size of a duck's penis isn't a postulation. A postulation would be, oh, say assuming the existence of a something as the basis for an argument maintaining what something else would then do, act, want, or effect. The extraordinary size of duck's penis relative to the size of the duck itself is not a postulation but a fact. So is the effect of excess water on the fruit of a tomato plant that has developed much of its fruit in very dry conditions. The part about only 12 Dodge pickups being sold might have been a postulation. Not sure. Still working on that one.

Some Chevy pickups look like Fords. And who the hell expects to see a Dodge pickup? They only sold 12 of them.

If your tomato plants have gotten super dry, don't give them a large soaking all at once or you might get a bunch of splits fruits' skin as tomatoes that had thought themselves to be done growing swell with the influx of water.

Morning.

Eating a delicious Colorado peach.

We buy a couple crates of peaches every year from a local youth group that contracts with growers and brings in a semi. First delivery is from Georgia. Then later in the summer, the Colorado peaches come in. Both deliveries are great, but, every year, the Colorado peaches are the nicest, big, nicely colored, and so tasty.

Bill, you made quite an impression on me when we met at whatever IJam we met at. I walked into the (I believe) Modern Motel lobby, a bit worn after the long drive with guitar in hand. The lobby was empty, except for one fellow, who came up to me with a smile and with warmest southern voice said "Hello, I'm Bill, Chili Bill on the forum. good to meet you". And you shook my hand and we chatted a bit. Then you said, "would you like some hot sauce, I brought some of mine". And you gave me a bottle of your homemade hot sauce, it even had a label that said "Chili Bill's".

You gave me the warmest greeting (and not just because of the hot sauce) and I still remember it. Later, when you played on the stage, you started out rambling about how you weren't very good and just liked to pick a bit at home, then you played some of smoothest country blues. Knocked my socks off. You were so comfortable with that guitar and so good, as good as it gets. And whatever tune it was you played, it sounded like it was a part of you it was so yours.

I meant to keep your hot sauce as a souvenir. But, then, one morning, I realized that wasn't what it was meant for, so I popped it open and splashed my omelet. Pretty darn good hot sauce, Bill! Thanks!