A young imagination is bold likes to make bigger leaps. It likes to well imagine that the dustbuster is a dinosaur that the computer mouse is a hotrod that the box is a cave that the rawhide is a torch... or a baton... or something.

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When I read the pilot 'for Married with Children' it just reminded me of my Uncle Joe... just a self-deprecating kind of guy. He'd come home from work and the wife would maybe say 'I ran over the dog this morning in the driveway'. And he would say 'Fine what's for dinner?