Sunday, Sunday

It is father's day and I am at the office trying to express new arguments which will restate the ones I typed earlier in new and groundbreaking ways. It is not going well. I will admit to no love for father's day or any other fake holiday-type event. That said, I would much rather be with Mo and the kids than here at the orifice on a Sunday. This is the third in sequence which I have spent here and I miss my brood.

This is not to say I am suffering. Not like this little guy's brethren. I am not clear on the details of this amnesty. I guess the lamb laid down on Broadway.

p-man