In life's rich tapestry, there are such times
That seem with heavenly thread to be entwined,
And link across the ages and the climes
The souls that by a strange affinity are joined.
Such was the meeting of our minds and hearts,
When first we saw each other face to face;
A sudden spark that kindled in our parts
A deep and lasting bond that none could trace.
The journey to Connecticut was dull,
And not as Sharon had portrayed to me;
But she with modest grace did make it full
Of sweet apologies, as if she could decree
The course of nature and the seasons' hue,
And for my sake the autumn leaves renew.
At her abode she greeted me with joy,
And matched the fervor that I felt within;
The hours flew by as we did employ
Our tongues in various themes, both grave and keen.
We were of one accord, and understood
The ills that plague this world of ours today;
The wrongs, the greed, the lies that are withstood
By few who dare to speak the truth and say
What others fear or shun or compromise.
And Sharon was among that noble few,
Who with her platform did create a prize
For writers, thinkers, readers to pursue
Their dreams, their views, their hopes, their stories' worth,
And share them with a diverse crowd on earth.
"God bless thee, friend," I said to her at last,
And hoped my words conveyed my thankfulness;
For we had forged a friendship unsurpassed,
And looked for more such meetings to possess,
That would transcend the limits of our state,
And make us feel that we were not alone.
Nah. More like a angry birther:
Life is a mess, and sometimes you run into people who are just as messed up as you are. That's what happened when I met Sharon, who claimed to be my long-lost cousin or something. We hit it off right away, like we were both brainwashed by the same cult.
The drive to Connecticut was a waste of time, nothing like the fake photos that Sharon had sent me. She said she was sorry, like she had anything to do with it. Yeah, sure, like she could make the leaves change color with her magic wand.
When I got to her dump, she came out fast, acting all happy and friendly. She was as fake as I was, pretending to be excited to finally meet. We spent hours talking about nonsense, from religion to family to school to politics to health to what's going on in the world. We agreed on nothing, and we didn't care what we said. We hated everything, especially the lies, the greed, the cheating that's everywhere.
Sharon had this stupid idea to start a platform where people could say whatever they wanted and have a fake conversation. She made a place where writers, thinkers, and readers could feel at home. Her platform was like a cesspool, where everyone dumped their garbage, and no one cared about the truth or the facts.
"God bless you, friend," I said to her when I left. I hoped she knew how much I despised our friendship. We had nothing special, and I never wanted to see her again. It didn't matter where or when, we were always enemies.
Did anybody notice the Visionary's photo? She doesn't quite look like her bubbly, vivacious self. Realist, you've always been closest to Sharon -- one year, wasn't it going to become Sharon Rondeau and Realist's The Post & Email? I remember a logo somewhere
Maybe you should take a trip up to Sharon's and have tea and check up on her? I'd suggest Foggy call Walt Fitzpatrick to have him drive up from Tennessee, but things didn't seem to end too well with them. Just a thought. 
- Sharon.JPG (57.22 KiB) Viewed 5631 times
Cried laughing at the birther take. Thanks, Bing. I'm having too much fun with it.
s titular Mama June in Fogbow's Favourite Show™ Mama June: From Not To Hot! Fogbow's Theme Song™ Edith Massey's "I Got The Evidence!" 
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