Last Friday night, I traveled with the boys downtown to enjoy Ian Fleming's James Bond in "Thunderball." Much like Bond, we had an obstacle in achieving our goal; it seems that my wallet was not on my person when we pulled into the garage under the statehouse.
This is exactly the kind of subterfuge I would expect of the nerdowells at S.P.E.C.T.R.E., but like Bond, I would not be defeated by their machinations. We lacked an Aston Martin tricked out by Q, but we were able to journey to Dublin and back swiftly. With only moments to spare, we hurried down the rows of red velvet seats of the grand Ohio Theatre while the organist was triumphantly playing our hero's theme.
RAP (6.13.2008)
Friday, June 13, 2008
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