While playing a well-known crossword-creation game online, I was amused, and perhaps slightly nauseated, when I looked at my available letters and saw "LINTPIE".

Although the thought of consuming such a concoction certainly killed my appetite, it brought to life a string of thoughts, so I LEPT IN and called a TIP LINE.

I had just stabbed my mouth with my fork, so I was suffering from TINE LIP and couldn't really carry on a conversation. Instead, I fastened a TILE PIN to my shirt and tried to start a campfire...but I couldn't get the PINE LIT.

I was going to burn my mortgage, but since I couldn't get the fire going, I just stood there and stared at a LIEN PIT.

Trying to redeem my time, I cleared my hair of louse eggs until I had a nice little NIT PILE.

        

The Who's very first single spent a mere two weeks on the March 1965 charts and only made it to Number 93.

Musically, it feels suspiciously like "You Really Got Me" by The Kinks (maybe because both songs were produced by the same guy). So much so, Dave Davies of The Kinks says that when he heard "I Can't Explain," he thought those "cheeky buggers" from The Who were copying them.

According to Songfacts.com: The Who guitarist Pete Townshend wrote this song when he was 18 years old. He described it as being about a guy who "can't tell his girlfriend he loves her because he's taken too many Dexedrine tablets."

And yet, Rolling Stone considers it the 371st greatest song of all time.

I can't explain why.

        

Beloved and I were spending a day with LittleMan and Goober (our two youngest grandchildren) and thought it would be a treat for the 2-year-old LittleMan to have a Happy Meal for lunch.

He was very excited to get his McNuggets, fries, and apple juice. Several fries and all the juice were quickly consumed, but the chicken nuggets seemed to hold no interest for him. Soon, he was just sitting there staring.

I asked, "Are you going to eat your chicken nuggets?"

He grabbed the remaining fries from his plate and set them on the table. Then, one by one, each McNugget was placed there, too.

LittleMan proudly proclaimed, "I all done!"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Honestly, I admire the confidence. Maybe I should try this as a diet plan.

        

Beloved and I had just enjoyed a south-of-the-border repast, paid our bill, and were caught up short when attempting to actually...you know...LEAVE the establishment.

Being unsure whether to trust American Express or Pepsi, this post has been uploaded from a small Mexican restaurant in Lakeville, Minnesota.

        

"Hey, Siri, what is Rolling Stone's 372nd greatest song of all time?"

"'Marquee Moon,' by Television."

"How high on the Billboard charts did it go?"

"'Marquee Moon,' by Television, was never released as a single and was never listed on any airplay or sales chart."

"Did Rolling Stone give any reason for why they put it on the Greatest Songs list?"

"Not at all. Here's the blurb they connected to it: "Marquee Moon" is Television's guitar epic, stretching out for ten minutes of urban paranoia. "I would play until something happened," Verlaine said."

As if "urban paranoia" wasn't enough to keep me from even listening to this, the first line of the oft-repeated chorus puts a kink in my colon:

Life in the hive puckered up my night

The nicest thought this brings to mind is that a bee accidentally sucked up lemonade instead of honey.

Ewww...