If there’s one thing that Blue Genius enjoys it’s chasing after a tennis ball, so I lob them into the church hall from my kitchen workstation.
It makes a break from reading trenchant analysis of little Rubio’s rat claw hands, Hillary’s perfidy and the latest salvos in the war against Christian bakers.
Bake That Cake!
But here’s the thing. If the Church of England is buried beneath the sands of the Red Planet, how much will it cost to excavate it and who will own it when it’s dug up? Some say this implies a lawsuit.
Regardless, I’m off to hunt down some Confederate dinner plates and try some bank fishing on lake Whitney. You never know, I might even catch something.
This is a Tennis Ball in my Mouth, Not Marco Rubio