On this day, August 11, many many many years ago, I was born, in Eugene, Oregon.
The last couple days a surprising number of birthday cards have been showing up in my mailbox, and by other means.
But, none so surprising as a birthday card from Donald Trump.
I thought Donald was mad at me. I'd heard he did not like being made fun of. Which really makes no sense to me.
If one did not like being made fun of, why would one, with such an aversion, continually provide so much material which is so easy to make fun of?
I know, one should not end a sentence with a preposition. I can't help myself. I am picking up some bad grammar habits from my good friend, Donald...
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