. . . And Nonsense!

Beep! Beep!
The price of inventive capitalism

“Just call me Easy Rider, babe.  I totally got this.”

“The hills are alive with the sound of music!”  (Poor Julie.  But she’d probably laugh about it too.)

“So ya go past the big bush over there, turn right at the dead hunter, left at the abandoned Jeep, mind the big wombat burrow, and whatever ya do, don’t piss that bugger off, then straight ahead past the baby-sitting dingo (no worries, mate, he already ate), then it’s just a few more meters to the pub. Oh, and watch out for the barman. He’s not fond of tourists of the British persuasion. G’day!”

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