Expidite the expidited

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I am headed to the passport office this AM to get a new passport. I didn't have time to do the expidited renewal after getting back from Japan. So I made an special expiditing appointment with the passport folks in Atlanta. I am glad I only have to drive into Atlanta, not fly up to NY or Washington DC. It seems I have had to do some expiditing everytime I have renewed my passport. Passports are good for 10 years. When you get a new passport it is a time to ponder where you will be and what the passport will look like in 10 years. The pic belows shows the wear on my now cancelled passport. it was a 50 page book (the extra pages version) and 46 pages are fully used. Many countries require 3 empty pages to enter their country. So, I got full use of the larger size passport. If you need more pages, you send the passport in and they will "sew-in" more pages. The thickest passport I ever saw was at the Uzbekistan-Turkmenistan border. A truck driver I saw had a Uzbekistan passpo...

I find some weird stuff out there on the web. I would call this style "relentless_unknown_dream_beat".

www.mywebpages.comcast.net/dragineez/OddShorts.HTML

I really get a kick out of people. The good stuff is on the web, served up for your amusement if you have the ability to concentrate on the question, not the answer. How long will it take? Maybe forever.

O Wondrous Llama

Much is made of the llama, that frisky little critter who is frequently glimpsed chewing on large distended sacks of filth over by the side of the highways and byways of this great land. But how much do we really know about this rakish knave, this whimsical creeper in the twilight world of the underbrush? What are his habits, his dreams, his preoccupations, his intimate hygienic problems, his credit card numbers?

At home, the llama is a savage brute, fond of rubbing ferns on his bottom and playing the kazoo. He beats his children daily with hardened balls of inexplicably furry mucus. And yet, there is a softer side. He is an accomplished cinematographer, and occasionally poses for modelling shots that would make any upstanding citizen cringe in fear. On weekends, and during periods of heavy downpours, he will go from door to door collecting newspapers, which he then laboriously molds into tiny blowfish.

We are left, after examining the evidence, feeling that we have never really gotten to the soul of this dashing charlatan of the woods. He remains, as ever, an enigma, aloof, forbidding, and perpetually infected. Perhaps man was never meant to know the dark secrets of this peripatetic "Mime of the Deep". We can only peek at his towering form behind the safety of our custom blast shielding and wait for him to get out of the driveway, all the while silently marveling at the crimes of Mother Nature.

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Expidite the expidited