Another day, another blog post.
Another day, another headache.
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Another day, another heartbreak.
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Another day, another song lyric.
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Another day, another awful act of the USA administration.
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Another day, another cartoon.
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Another day, another cat photo.
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Another day, another adventure.
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Another day, another list of holidays and observances.
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Another day, another Daily Bitch Calendar.
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Here’s what I find when I search for “another day, another _____” on YouTube:
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How would you complete the phrase “another day, another ______”?
Another day, another expression of gratitude for people like YOU!
We are gathering up the tears, yes, Ann. Donald and Walter IRIP) sang to us deeply then and now.
They resonate during all my years and days, Mark.
Another day, another fraud. All the news last night on MSNBC about the corruption stemming from the bitcoin dinner. And I was thinking, the First Felon should be frog-marched out of there in handcuffs – perhaps a strait jacket. But who is there to do it? Justice, with Pam Bondi and Kash Patel? Homeland Security with Kristy (I have no idea what habeas corpus means) Noem? The military, with most “disloyal” generals fired?
As The Grateful Dead put it, “Holes in what’s left of my reason, holes in the knees of my blues.”
Another day, another egregious act from the current administration, Barbara.
He’s trying to kill us all.
That’s what it seems like, JT.
another day, another day to make it right and take back our country
Another day to work together towards that end, my friend.
Another day another 82.3 cents.
When my family went to New York my father wanted a carriage ride in Central Park. We first went to a driver who introduced himself as Norman, a pale, short guy with glasses. He told us the price. My father thought he could get a better deal and went to the next driver, a tall man with coppery hair and a mustache. I looked back and saw Norman sigh. The tall man said it would be the same price so my father went back to Norman. He was great. He learned our names, asked if we were enjoying ourselves, and gave us a pocket history of Central Park. We passed by the copper-haired man driving another family, staring straight ahead, not saying a word.
Another day, another chance to spend time with good people like you, Chris.