review

There are actually a variety of reasons. For those of you not “in the know,” Jessica Fletcher is the real name of Angela Lansbury. There was a lengthy (twelve years) biopic called Murder She Wrote, in which she played herself, but other than that, she’s gone by the stage name of Lansbury. Sort of like Mark Twain and Samuel Clemens. Anyway. Jessica has a lot to pay for. First of all, it’s because of her that I was a walking zombie this morning, slack jawed and out of it until I walked out into the brisk Maine air. You see, I stayed

Okay. I admit it. I’ve been watching this season. That’s right–after a two year hiatus, I skipped the awful first rounds and started watching once they were actually phone elimination rounds. Hey–with all the snow we’ve been getting, I had to start doing something to pass time. Especially since I’ve been working on stamping, addressing and sealing 1,000 newsletters. Got to keep the mind moving somehow. And this year, I’ve been enjoying the performances for the most part. Very glad that Danny kid left last week. Think that Kristy girl should go. Eight Days a Week sung as a Country