Heads In The Clouds
Our drama productions (and that's the royal "our" as I've had nought to do with either) require that one takes everything one previously thought they (one?) knew about American conservativism, and moreover, southern conservativism, and chuck everything, all, the whole caboodle, out the window.
Now, imagine the windows are on the sixty-something floor, and perhaps sharks or crocodiles lurking beneath to gobble the remains of one's erring presumptions. And you're getting close to understanding.
Jolly good show, though.
" . . and the weather is really fine, up on cloud number nine."
Now, imagine the windows are on the sixty-something floor, and perhaps sharks or crocodiles lurking beneath to gobble the remains of one's erring presumptions. And you're getting close to understanding.
Jolly good show, though.
" . . and the weather is really fine, up on cloud number nine."