Got up this morning and worked on a couple images. In the mid-1920s a sports writer from Chicago named Walter Noble Burns, sought out an old, part-time lawman, and featured him in a book "Tombstone: An Iliad of The Southwest." From that point on, the nation became both enamored and disgusted with Wyatt Earp.
When our good neighbor Tom came up to exchange newspapers this morning, he helped me get the big boy out of the pool. Tom claims he is a bonified frog and how he got to our pool is anybody's guess. We put him in the corner by the ironwood tree. Here he is:
"I never understood a single word he said, but I helped him drink his wine."
—Three Dog Night, "Joy to The World"