Once upon a time, a long time after breakfast and just a bit before nap time, there was an imaginary radio station on this spot.

It waddled along on it's merry way until the owner, operator and chief bottle washer turned it into a literary parking lot. And no, I will not cue up a Joni Mitchell song.

After awhile, after getting over not being terribly funny, the owner began to get tired of being lachrymose, melancholy and just plain boring.

Now, the pendulum has swang back the other dirooction, taking along with it any sensibility the owner may have had that he might be repeating himself. After all, he is a fan of AC/DC and Ironed Mitten.