We were watching this storm cloud roll over the S Building in Clifton. I said I wished I could catch a bolt of lightning in a photo, to which Carolyn said, 'The night that Jesus got struck by lightning…'
Ha! It's the Cincinnati version of, 'Where were you when Kennedy got shot?'
I was in bed, nursing my pee bag, and received an email from a friend in Venezuela with the subject, 'Big Butter Jesus is no more.'
God is an arsonist, y'all. And no, I will never get tired of this.
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