<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5731326652053339372</id><updated>2011-10-31T19:36:38.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'>larry who?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5731326652053339372/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>larrya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13195610133017747048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6yF6cEk3cHQ/TqgzTbW6LOI/AAAAAAAAABs/odbjDsP3w1s/s220/Buried.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5731326652053339372.post-4720222194273017520</id><published>2011-10-26T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T19:36:38.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Senior Discount</title><content type='html'>They had had the familiar discussion again. "Now that you're retired, you've turned into a cynical, tight-fisted old poop, more interested in your own convenience than the plight of your fellow man." Stan left the apartment to cool off, relieved to be out of there. This time he had the presence of mind to take the Times with him and crossed the park to his favorite bench in the front of the library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A winter sun caressed his skin as he reflected on her argument, staring at the Times' Arts section. From the corner of his eye, Stan noticed the six-year-old Oldsmobile carrying two elderly ladies and a gentleman driver, meandering along old-drive style into the yellow-painted curb 'No Parking' area across the street. They had to be in their mid-eighties, the kind of nicely dressed folks you see at church Sundays and Wednesdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ladies craned their necks with serious faces while the old man went to the rear of the car. He popped the trunk and returned &amp;nbsp;to say something to them and they began to get out slowly. He proceeded to pull out the jack and that's when Stan felt he had to call out and ask if he could help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man looked up, startled. "No, that's alright."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stan stood &amp;nbsp;up, "Let me get the spare out &amp;nbsp;for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No!" the old &amp;nbsp;gentleman said and by this time the women were on their feet shaking their heads at Stan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wanted to argue, but the man said, "Run along, Sonny, I'm fine." and started jacking up the car. Stan started across the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now you go on, boy!" So Stan gave up and sat back down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;What will I tell her? That I let an old guy talk me out of helping?" &lt;/i&gt;he thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gentleman finished, closed the trunk, wiped his hands and straightened his fedora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he went to the ladies and all &amp;nbsp;three walked away arm-in-arm, the car still high on the jack. The ladies turned and smiled sweetly, and Stan could swear he saw the old guy give him a knowing wink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5731326652053339372-4720222194273017520?l=www.larrywhosays.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/feeds/4720222194273017520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/2011/10/senior-discount.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5731326652053339372/posts/default/4720222194273017520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5731326652053339372/posts/default/4720222194273017520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/2011/10/senior-discount.html' title='Senior Discount'/><author><name>larrya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13195610133017747048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6yF6cEk3cHQ/TqgzTbW6LOI/AAAAAAAAABs/odbjDsP3w1s/s220/Buried.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5731326652053339372.post-3202894948396862034</id><published>2011-10-25T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T10:26:37.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Romney Tousle</title><content type='html'>Is it just me, or has Mitt Romney hired someone to tousle a few hairs on his forehead before he goes out on the campaign trail? His hair has its familiar controlled finish for the debates, but when he's "with the people," the reliable tousle is there. I was sure of this until the other day when I saw a clip of him campaigning and -&amp;nbsp;no tousle! Has the designated tousler been let go or has he/she fallen down on the&amp;nbsp;job? Just wondering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5731326652053339372-3202894948396862034?l=www.larrywhosays.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/feeds/3202894948396862034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/2011/10/romney-tousle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5731326652053339372/posts/default/3202894948396862034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5731326652053339372/posts/default/3202894948396862034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.larrywhosays.com/2011/10/romney-tousle.html' title='The Romney Tousle'/><author><name>larrya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13195610133017747048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6yF6cEk3cHQ/TqgzTbW6LOI/AAAAAAAAABs/odbjDsP3w1s/s220/Buried.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
