The Fatlands

So, it appears that Johnny Weissmuller (b. 1904, grew up to be Olympic swimmer & best film Tarzan of all time], Hedda Hopper (b. 1890, grew up to be an okay actress, big deal columnist, & milliners' delight), and Michael Todd (b. 1901, grew up to be fabulous film producer & one of Miss Taylor's favorite husbands, only to be killed in a plane crash. eek.), all share today as their birthday, along with author, Thos. Hardy, music genius Marvin Hamlisch, & the Marquis de Sade (ouch). Me, this is the first proper day of my period of eating sensibly, in a manner that will undo the squashy excess upon my person. It is not as if I dwell in the heart of the Fatlands, but I've crossed the border. I can see the capital city from here and I know how sad folks are there. Should I keep on the road I've been traveling, stopping every now and a again for bread pudding, ice cream cones, and the occasional bag of M&M's, I shall be forced to take out citizenship papers. I've seen where this road leads so I'm turning this bus around.