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April 9, 2012

Maybe I didnít know the direction after all.† Maybe, like so many other things, the coalmine canary in me took over and just lay down on the bottom of the cage until it could breathe again. There was one day I began counting the things pressing me to the bottom of that cage and I stopped when I reached ten. I rolled over brushing off the bird seed and began reading the Ďlil Abner strip there.† It was below Dick Tracey and above Orphan Annie and Henry.† I donít know why they called them the funny papers. They werenít funny.