I would suggest designers of the non-spill fuel nozzle inhaled too many gasoline fumes except its utter uselessness suggest none of them ever got within a city block of a gallon of gas, let alone poured any. From the book, “Montaigne in Barn Boots.”
NOTE: Since I began posting the daily “From the Little Writing Room Above the Garage” posts, I’ve been getting messages asking if there was a way to slide a couple bucks into the tip jar. The answer is yes, and there’s a link below to that effect, but first: We’re a self-employed family. The cancellations and disruptions in my touring have certainly put a crimp in things. But we also have a place to live, food on the table, projects in the hopper, and some options. Others in my backyard are facing far more dire circumstances. So for now I continue to point you first and foremost to the terrific folks at Feed My People, and also ask you to consider the Chippewa Valley Artists Relief Fund set up by the above-average souls at Ambient Inks (if you order anything from the Sneezing Cow store, the Ambient Inks crew selects, packs, and ships it).
If you still wish to drop something into the Sneezing Cow “live but on video in a tiny room alone” fund, you can do it by PayPal here.
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