Sippican Cottage
Donate

Elaine May Isn’t Funny

May 7, 2025 5 Comments

I was treated to The Heartbreak Kid (1972) last night. “Treated” may be the wrong word here. I’ve lost my thesaurus, so I’ll have to wing it. Subjected to? Mistakenly viewed? Doggedly watched all the way through? Suffered from a full-blown bout of Elaine May?

Well, I guess it’s not that important to characterize the experience in depth. I’ll bet the signs posted outside a leper colony have far fewer words on them than the warning label on Wegovy.  If you’re doing a lot of explaining about danger, people will ignore what they hear. Post a sign that simply says: Leper Colony, and people stay out. I wish I’d read the sign that said: Elaine May Is the Director outside the leper colony of entertainment that The Heartbreak Kid encloses. I would have heeded it. A picture of Charles Grodin would have done the trick too. A hard pass on him never disappoints.

I was cozened into watching the thing because Neil Simon wrote it. I like Neil Simon less than I like Neil Hefti, but he’s alright. His hyper-Levantine microscope doesn’t resonate with me, but it holds no terrors, either. The Odd Couple has lots of good jokes in it. I thought there might be at least one in The Heartbreak Kid. I thought wrong.

I admit I’m defective. I can no longer enjoy entertainment simply on its own merits. I get to wondering about things outside the frame. Since it’s not possible for anyone who hasn’t been thrown clear of an automobile recently to enjoy The Heartbreak Kid, I started thinking outside the frame almost immediately. I could be certain that Elaine May wasn’t going to amuse me, so I knew I had to amuse myself. My mind wandered, and I wondered through the whole shebang whether I was supposed to like the main character, or dislike him, or laugh at what anyone said, or be outraged, or any other normal human emotion that it failed to engender. That goes for any of the other characters, or anything they said, or did, or wore, or drove, or ate, or talked about. There simply was no there, there for me to hang my hat, or my head on. But that’s Elaine May’s career in a nutshell.

Nichols and May are from before my time, but I have a library card. They were famous for stretching 15 seconds of material over 15 minutes of occasional nervous laughter from what I gather was some kind of prison audience. They say people always clap. Some because they like it. Some because it’s over. I know which way to bet on anything from Nichols and May.

Nichols and May are often exalted as comic’s comics.

Woody Allen declared, “the two of them came along and elevated comedy to a brand-new level”.

They did indeed elevate comedy to a brand new level, a subterranean one, which is no mean feat. Before them, comedians never realized you could be a comedian without ever saying anything funny, or even interesting, and still get paid. Woody took a page out their playbook, but chickened out and sprinkled his movies with Borscht Belt jokes between the scenes of people behaving badly towards one another in rent-controlled apartments. This rendered the tedious behaviors of the revolting characters watchable.

If you look up The Heartbreak Kid, they refer to it as a “black comedy.” This term has been twisted from its original meaning to cover stuff that’s painfully unfunny, instead of stuff that’s darkly amusing. The Coen Brothers do black comedy. Elaine May farts, sticks out her hand, and says, TaDa!. When no one laughs, she says she meant to do that. You know, black comedy!

I have no notions that the entertainment world is a meritocracy. People willing to get Weinsteined know how to climb the greasy pole, so wondering how talentless people thrive in it is a fool’s errand. But analysis visits you unwonted sometimes. I started to analyze The Heartbreak Kid, and where it came from.

A cursory glance at Elaine May’s filmography reveals that the high point was writing and directing Ishtar. Now there’s a clue. Ishtar is Hollywood shorthand for a thoroughgoing, money-desolating Armageddon-level flop.

Ishtar was nominated for three Golden Raspberry Awards, including Worst Picture and Worst Screenplay, with May winning Worst Director, tied with Norman Mailer for Tough Guys Don’t Dance. Ishtar also was nominated for Worst Picture at the 1987 Stinkers Bad Movie Awards. When the Stinkers unveiled their “100 Years, 100 Stinkers” list to present the 100 worst movies of the 20th century, Ishtar made the list and ranked at No. 20 in the listed bottom 20.

So Nichols and May had parted brass rags by 1961. Nichols went on to become one of only 21 persons to achieve an EGOT (An Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar, and a Tony Award). Elaine May… didn’t. Nichols was the most successful stage director anywhere for a good long while, and then became a wildly successful movie director. His films were nominated for 43 Academy awards, and won 7 of one kind or another. And the most successful of all of them was The Graduate. It cost $3 million to make, and earned $105 million at the box office. That’s $857 million in 2024 bucks.

So I started to do a compare and contrast between The Heartbreak Kid and The Graduate, and for good reason. The Heartbreak Kid is a wan attempt to accomplish the same story, one done by someone who really knew what they were doing, by someone who never did. The Heartbreak Kid is so badly done that no one noticed the similarity, but it’s there.

In The Heartbreak Kid, the protagonist (Lenny) is a creepy nebbish played by Charles Grodin. He literally has no redeeming qualities, and is uninteresting in every way. He decides to dump his wife on his honeymoon because WASPy Cybill Shepherd winks at him. In The Graduate, the protagonist (Dustin Hoffman as Benjamin Braddock) is a uninteresting loafer with no redeeming qualities. He wants to marry a girl way out of his league after sleeping with her mother. Both characters turn their lives (and everyone else’s) upside down to convince their respective inamoratas to marry them. These women are supposed to be attracted to them for reasons that would escape any normal person’s thinker-upper.

Lenny goes through his banal machinations to marry his manic pixie-shiksa dreamgirl, and ends up at his wedding reception reciting the same humdrum bromides about life he used to win fair maid to everyone there, ending up on the couch with two children listening to him. He’s already bored with the whole idea. That’s the point, I guess. You have to guess. It’s a May black comedy, remember?

Now, many people think Romeo and Juliet is a love story, instead of a cautionary tale about teen infatuation that ends up with everyone dead. These same people also think The Graduate is a sweet love story, and that it has a happy ending. Not hardly, if you’re paying attention. Here’s the final scene of the movie:

In the back of the bus, it finally dawns on Benjamin Braddock that he has no idea why he was trying to woo fair maid. It was forbidden, so he wanted it. He’s already ambivalent about her. She looks at him and maybe wonders what she saw in him in the first place. It’s a subtle punch line delivered with panache at the end of a rollicking sendup of late sixties suburban ennui and misbehavior. The Heartbreak Kid is just an unfunny attempt to find some ore in the same, played out mine.

All in all, I wished I’d watched Ishtar instead. At least I could have made fun of it.  Making sport of dreck is a form of entertainment, I think. It’s the only form of amusement you’ll find if Elaine May is involved.

Tuesday Tidy Up

May 6, 2025 3 Comments

Well, it’s Tuesday. Tuesday is just Monday’s hangover. Everything you tried to ingest and process to start the week makes a re-appearance in a less attractive form. But we must soldier on. Let’s clean up the pixel pavement pizzas in our browser bookmarks and try to get ready for Wednesday, which is just Tuesday’s stepchild.

What we lose when phones take away boredom and interstitial time

Yet the smartphone’s triumph over boredom might prove a Pyrrhic victory. As Jonathan Haidt showed in The Anxious Generation, the rapid adoption of smartphones and social media, particularly by the young, led to many negative unintended consequences such as increased rates of depression, anxiety, loneliness, and self-harm. So, too, our efforts to vanquish boredom have had deleterious impacts such as on our ability to let our minds wander, to cultivate patience, and to experience anticipation.

Boredom? Yes, yes of course. But it’s frustration that causes people to make profound changes. Boredom has always led to useless amusements.

NY Fed’s “Multivariate Core Trend” Inflation Measure Hits 3.0%, Worst in Over a Year, Predicts Acceleration of PCE Price Index

So now MCT, which attempts to show “persistence” of inflation, is predicting a substantial re-acceleration of inflation – the “persistence” part – driven largely by non-housing services and to a small extent by core goods. So housing cost inflation, as measured by rents, is no longer the driver of this inflation; it’s non-housing services and to a small extent, core goods.

Inflation is going down so let’s count it a different way.

Collections: Why Archers Didn’t Volley Fire

Archers didn’t engage in coordinated all-at-once shooting (called ‘volley fire’), they did not shoot in volleys because there wouldn’t be any point to do so. Indeed, part of the reason there was such confusion over what a general is supposed to shout instead of ‘fire!’ is that historical tactical manuals don’t generally have commands for coordinated bow shooting because armies didn’t do coordinated bow shooting. Instead, archers generated a ‘hail’ or ‘rain’ (those are the typical metaphors) of arrows as each archer shot in their own best time.

If I’m looking for historical research, about the last place I’d look these days would be a university or a news outlet. The internet has legions of geeks who do a better job.

A 1903 Proposal to Preserve the Dead in Glass Cubes

Patented as a “Method of Preserving the Dead,” Karwowski provided diagrams and directions “whereby a corpse may be hermetically incased within a block of transparent glass” and thus “maintained for an indefinite period in a perfect and lifelike condition.” First the corpse would be drenched with “sodium silicate or water-glass,” and then, once dried, covered with “molten glass.”

The appeal of this method, ahem, remains to be seen.

Why I Am not Going To Buy A Computer

Wendell Berry provides writers enslaved by the computer with a handy alternative: Wife – a low-tech energy-saving device. Drop a pile of handwritten notes on Wife and you get back a finished manuscript, edited while it was typed. What computer can do that? Wife meets all of Berry’s uncompromising standards for techno-logical innovation: she’s cheap, repairable near home, and good for the family structure. Best of all, Wife is politically correct because she breaks a writer’s “direct dependence on strip-mined
coal.”

I pasted a short blogpost of mine into Chad AI and didn’t tell it who wrote it, and asked it to look for similar works. It compared it to a half-dozen writers, all either Nobel laureates or Pulitzer winners or similarly exalted so and sos. One was Robert Frost. So far, so good. Another was Wendell Berry. I closed the browser.

Software update makes HDR content “unwatchable” on Roku TVs

Complaints started surfacing on Roku’s community forum a week ago. On May 1, a company representative posted that Roku was “investigating the Disney Plus HDR content that was washed out after the recent update.” However, based on user feedback, it seems that HDR on additional Roku apps, including Apple TV+ and Netflix, are also affected. Roku’s representative has been asking users to share their experiences so that Roku can dig deeper into the problem.

Well, television was unwatchable anyway. I’m immune to further unwatchability. I can’t not watch it any harder.

Auburn University’s help desk is still answering the public’s calls 70 years on

The desk looks different today than it did seventy years ago. For starters, it’s in an expensive, modern-looking student center. The old Foy Hall still exists, and now houses a few small student-engagement offices; but it’s got low ceilings and could use an update. There used to be stacks of books at the desk—encyclopedias and dictionaries, reference texts, phone books, the Farmers’ Almanac, the Guinness Book of World Records, and Emily Post’s Etiquette—but they’ve been replaced by three desktop iMacs, the really nice ones, whose backs are blue and orange, like the school’s colors.

I’ve seen that movie. It was displayed perfectly clearly on my screen, by the way:

Speaking of life imitating art, here’s perhaps the greatest example ever:

Sometimes I wonder what could have been accomplished if all the money and time and effort expended on trying to get famous on social media was channeled into something more productive. Then I got a headache and stopped wondering.

The next chapter: Moving from Skype to Microsoft Teams 

With Teams, users have access to many of the same core features they use in Skype, such as one-on-one calls and group calls, messaging, and file sharing. Additionally, Teams offers enhanced features like hosting meetings, managing calendars, and building and joining communities for free.

My mother loved Skype. She tried to sign on to it over and over to see her grandchildren, and almost always failed. She’d mis-type her login, or give out a malformed Skype address to her friends. Then she’d sign up for it all over again with tiny changes in her logins each time. If someone tried to contact her, she could never figure out which set of credentials went with what. She finally tearfully admitted all this to me, and asked me to fix it. I spent a month trying to get Microsoft to meld all her accounts together. Microsoft said sure, just don’t sign up for any more accounts for 30 days, and they’ll all be under one login. Her grand-daughter-in-law signed her up for another Skype account 29 days later. Mom said it was OK, because GDIL was “good with computers.” I won’t miss Skype.

I Cooked Meat by Launching It To Mach 3

Ever wonder why the Houthis can chase aircraft carriers out of the Red Sea? If YouTube geeks can make their own hibachi rockets, I imagine there are Robert al Abdullah Goddards everywhere at this point. Plan accordingly.

Have a great Wednesday, people. Tuesday? We won’t mention it again.

The Original Show About Nothing: Jeeves and Wooster

May 5, 2025 4 Comments

Of course it’s a misattribution or malapropism or maladroit miscommunication or some other whatsis to refer to Seinfeld as The Show About Nothing. That whole idea is an in-joke that got embedded deeply into the meta information of the show itself. The sitcom was based on the idea of demonstrating how comedians found their material in ordinary life, and then showcasing them (Seinfeld) delivering that material in its finished form.

But still. The joke stuck, and became a metonym for the whole enterprise. It kinda works, because by design, no one on the show learns anything from their misadventures, never grows up, never matures. They never alter their behavior after learning any lessons delivered from their trip through their pampered version of the school of hard knocks. Their woes are trivial. While hundreds of people pass through their warped little world, the principals (and their principles) don’t change one whit.

By those standards, it is a show about nothing, but it’s not the first. P.G.Wodehouse wrote the first show about nothing I know about, even though it wasn’t a show when he thought it up. It was a series of published stories. Jeeves and Wooster adumbrated the show about nothing.

If you’re not familiar with the stories, Bertie Wooster is a somewhat dimwitted wastrel semi-aristocrat flouncing around London and various posh country estates in Great Britain between the two wars. Jeeves is his wise and hyper-competent manservant. This kind of turnabout is common now, but it was fresh when Wodehouse started it. Wodehouse began contemporaneously with the subject matter, but he somehow kept it going until 1974, through 35 short stories and 11 novels. Bertie never learns anything, Jeeves never forgets anything, they never get any older, time never passes, and nothing much happens throughout the whole enchilada. It’s still funny, and always will be, because Wodehouse was a funny writer.

There have been various attempts to dramatize Jeeves and Wooster over the years, including radio programs, stage plays, and TV shows. The best known is probably Jeeves and Wooster from ITV back in 1990. It still holds up pretty well. You can find all of them on YorubaTube if you poke around. Here’s the entire first episode:

There is a problem, although it’s something of a quibble. Wodehouse is not well-suited for dramatization. Hugh Laurie, who plays Wooster in the last clip, had this to say about Pelham Grenville:

The facts in this case, ladies and gentlemen, are simple. The first thing you should know, and probably the last, too, is that PG Wodehouse is still the funniest writer ever to have put words on paper. Fact number two: with the Jeeves stories, Wodehouse created the best of the best.

He’s wrong about some of that, but that’s not the problem I’m describing. Mark Twain is the funniest writer ever to put words on paper, with daylight second. However, both Twain’s stories and Wodehouse’s tales of misbegotten engagements, drunken layabout lords, and theiaphobia have the same drawback when viewed as dramaturgy. It’s the way the stories are told that’s humorous. Both authors have a masterful technique of making written works that are funny to read. While the situations they describe can vary from mundane to ridiculous, the action is in the delivery of the language. The stuff that happens might be comic, but the words make it hilarious.

Here’s two examples I’ve included in an old essay called The Dirty Dozen Best First Lines in Literature. First, P.G.:

Into the face of the young man who sat on the terrace of the Hotel Magnifique at Cannes there had crept a look of furtive shame, the shifty hangdog look which announces that an Englishman is about to talk French.
Pelham Grenville Wodehouse — The Luck of the Bodkins

Then Twain:

This last summer, when I was on my way back to Vienna from the Appetite-Cure in the mountains, I fell over a cliff in the twilight, and broke some arms and legs and one thing or another, and by good luck was found by some peasants who had lost an ass, and they carried me to the nearest habitation, which was one of those large, low, thatch-roofed farm-houses, with apartments in the garret for the family, and a cunning little porch under the deep gable decorated with boxes of bright colored flowers and cats; on the ground floor a large and light sitting-room, separated from the milch-cattle apartment by a partition; and in the front yard rose stately and fine the wealth and pride of the house, the manure-pile.
Christian Science — Mark Twain

Timing is just about everything when you’re trying to say something funny. Neither of those examples is a “joke.” Both writers hated jokes, although they used them to good effect by telling terrific jokes after first describing them as bad jokes, and kind of apologizing for them. For example, Bertie hears someone describing seeing Garrick playing Hamlet at the Odeon, (I’m doing this from memory, the details might be slightly different) and asks, “Who won?”, while no one laughs.

The timing in either of those opening lines is the key. You’re strung along, trying to keep up, and amused along the way by the tortured language and the occasional, offhand-sounding chuckler, then hit with the crusher at the end. They’re both great at it, The best ever, that I’ve ever seen, in print.

But bad books generally make the best movies. Twain’s characters have been portrayed plenty of times in movies and on TV, to poor effect. Huckleberry Finn is the Ur-Novel in American letters, but the story alone is not that interesting without the lively text. And while Jeeves and Wooster is about as good as cable TV shows get, it never achieves the drollery and amusement of P.G.’s writing.

My point is kind of borne out by the way the Jeeves and Wooster series was developed. Like most good British TV, there were only a few seasons with a handful of episodes each season. They still had trouble filling the hours. They mashed handfuls of stories together to pass the time, and then started making up dreadful ideas of their own, like putting Jeeves in drag. They discovered pretty quickly that there was a set of encyclopedias-worth of funny text, but only a handful of funny, televisable things in the stories.

Perhaps one of the reasons why Jeeves and Wooster still holds up is that the paradox of the helpless aristocrat and the competent, long-suffering servant is only half the paradox. It works just as well reversed, because Jeeves, while a servant, personifies rock-ribbed traditional, conservative Great Britain. He reads Spinoza in his room on his day off. But ultimately, he’s not in charge. Bertie may be a member of the upper crust, but he’s always ready to try every passing fad in amusements and clothing. He’s a kind of imbecilic gadfly. He never reads anything but a menu or a racing form, but somehow his class of nitwits are ostensibly in charge of an empire.

Neither Bertie or Jeeves has much of anything to do with the working class. Regular workers barely even enter the stories as props. It’s a struggle between two factions over who will set an example for the rest of the kingdom. In the episode above, Bertie tells Jeeves that he’s not the sort of man who becomes a slave to his valet. It’s amusing to watch him do it anyway, in a show about nothing.

So You Can’t Afford a House: Cinco

May 3, 2025 7 Comments

Well, just to prove that yesterday’s cheap house wasn’t a one-off, here’s another house for around the same price, and with a similar look out below pricing pedigree. Currently priced at (don’t blink) $64,900, it’s a 3-bed, 2-bath ramshackle wonder in Skowhegan, Maine.

The house is smaller than yesterday’s hovel, but it does have a garage/barn thing to its credit. The denizens have worked their usual plastic magic on the exterior, and put tiny windows here and there where the big Victorian sashes used to reside, but the place isn’t falling down or anything. They’ve also embraced the Welcome to Costco, I love you ethos, and tested themselves against the how many dogs do I need to hold my own against this many cats conundrum, but the place would be habitable if they disinhabited it.

Skowhegan is a less desirable exurb than yesterday’s Gardiner example, but just. It’s bigger, with 8,600 overweight Maine starvelings roaming its streets. It has a real downtown lined with more shops than empty storefronts. You could live in Skowhegan, and say you like it, and some people might believe you.

My kids had a lot to do with Skowhegan when they were younger. The town punches above its weight class for civic functions. Our boys performed at the Opera House, and for the River Fest, and at the Pickup Cafe, and at the Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture. There are plenty of nice people in Skowhegan. You could add or subtract from the total if you bought this house.

The house has also descended into the unmortgageable world, and it shows in the price history:

I can smell it on the breeze. Enter the downscale housing market now, or wait forever for first-rate stuff to plunge in price. Good luck with that.

So You Can’t Afford a House, Quatro Continued

May 2, 2025 No Comments

[If you just tuned in, we’re continuing a diatribe from yesterday on why you could buy and live in a cheap house in Gardiner, Maine]

So what are we looking at here?

I can tell all sorts of things just by looking at the pictures. Someone who hates me, and themselves a bit, have disfigured this house with vinyl siding. Ho hum. If you really cared, you could yank it all off and find perfectly good wood siding underneath it. It would just need a coat of paint. In a way, vinyl siding is like suspended animation for the siding underneath it. The house itself is sorta like Ted Williams head. It’s frozen in there somewhere. Frozen from October to May, anyway. Whatever. It’s not important.

The rooflines are about as straight as any house built in 1870 has any right to be. Back then, houses were built with framing in odd sizes and spacings. They were plenty strong enough, but prone to creep. They’d deflect over time, and get deformed into permanent sags. I don’t notice anything structurally wrong enough to make give me the willies.

They’ve done the usual stupid things. The back porch was enclosed. It was probably once a nice spot to stand in out of the rain while you fumbled for your keys. Now it’s a plastic elevator car that doesn’t move. The big satellite dish is a distinguishing mark of the breed of people who rent these sorts of places.

There’s a little fascia damage. That’s because imbeciles put up a plastic rain gutter. This collects rain and snow, freezes hard in November, and causes ice dams to crawl up the roof. Luckily they were so flimsy that the spring thaw took the middle section out. Rainwater should be handled on the ground level in Maine. The back of this house looks like a later addition. It will be less interesting than the front, and harder to remodel.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The house has a power line strung to it, and still has meters. It has town water, and town sewer. A couple of phone calls and you could conceivably live in it. People completely underestimate the value of these conditions. I’ve built new houses. You can’t believe what it takes to get a power pole, or get a septic system approved, or how chancy and expensive it is to drill a well, or pay to have a new structure added to the water service in the street. This house is time and money saved just sitting there.

Let’s look at a downstairs room:

Hmm. The floors are wide plank pine. There’s still some carpet pad stuck on them. Carpeting over floors is like vinyl siding. In a lot of cases, it shields the floor from you, not you from the floor. They’ve probably never been refinished and would look great.

The ceiling strapping is a tell. Horsehair plaster over wood lath loses its grip after decades of people bouncing on the floors above it. It starts to sag and crumble. People do silly things to avoid actually fixing the problem. The strapping was nailed up to make a grid to staple cardboard tiles over. That’s why it’s spaced on 1-foot intervals. I fixed the same problem in my last house: The lasagna of layers. I counsel you, if you attempt to pull down the strapping (called firring, or furring, in some places), you’ll pull down the whole ceiling. Those things were nailed hard back in the day. Just leave it and drywall right over the strapping.

You can run electricity in the gaps between the strapping, if you need to, or smash holes in the ceiling above to run stuff. You will have to. That light fixture’s backing screams knob and tube wiring to me. You’re going to want to run a lot of electricity in this place. Just plan on smashing it in and fixing the walls and ceilings. It’s not that hard.

Note the grating on the floor. There’s forced hot air run all over this house. Awesome. Even if the furnace is junk (it is), the ducts are in place already. I had to run all the ducts in my last house. Doubles the HVAC work.

Let’s look at another room:

Maybe oak, probably maple strip flooring in good condition. Refinishing floors is hard work, but ultimately not complicated. You can see plan B for dealing with the ceiling falling down: drop ceilings. You’d have to get adept at stripping off wallpaper after it’s painted over, putting up a drywall ceiling, punching in some electricity and patching up after, sanding floors, and painting some trim. All easy stuff that won’t cost a lot in the scheme of things. Simple effort is the cheapest part of home remodeling, and the scarcest in my experience.

There are bathrooms in the place already:

That’s a cast-iron tub you can’t afford to buy, but you can afford to clean, can’t you? There’s another one in another bathroom, too. There’s a plywood floor aching for tile. Rip out the tub surround and tile that while you’re at it. It’s not that hard. If I can do it, you can do it.

There’s no usable kitchen in the house, but there are two kitchen rooms. The place was a two-family at one time (two meters is a tell, too). This place will probably get wrecked (flipped) for a two-family. You could have one big house, or two crappy ones. You’d have to dump a lot more money into it as a two-family. The rules and headaches for having tenants are way bigger than fixing a place for yourself.

What good would a usable kitchen be, anyway? I see women on the shelter shows tearing out ten year old kitchens to “update” them. Get a stove and a fridge delivered and make the sink faucet work, and you’ll be in business on day 1. I did it, so can you. You can remodel the place at your leisure.

I’m getting too far into the weeds here. You could probably make an offer on this house below where it’s listed, and they’d jump. They’ll probably lower it again anyway. If you dumped a total of maybe $100,000 into the place, including the sales price, and put a lot of sweat into it, it would be worth triple what you paid for it. Crummy condo-houses as big as this joint are selling for $450,000 across town. And if you live in a house for at least two years while you fix it, there’s no capital gains tax on the money you get from selling it.

So, you want a house.  Gardiner is right over there. It’s only a matter of going.

 

Month: May 2025

Picture of sippicancottage

sippicancottage

A Man Who Has Nothing In Particular To Recommend Him Discusses All Sorts of Subjects at Random as Though He Knew Everything.

Find Stuff:
Archives
Recent Comments
Recent Posts
Tags