Oh I too want to see the William Rivers Pitt donned in gay apparel.
What happened was that three years ago, the neighbor, who lives six miles up the road, the one with whom I'm always having these "experiences" (the cow childbirth, the wreck caused by the Ohio primitive, his red-haired wife, his bossy father, my showing up at his place all bloody as if I've endured massive gunshot wounds, &c., &c., &c.), decided the William Rivers Pitt needed decorated.
I told him I wasn't about to string a line of extension cords a block and a half, from the house to the William Rivers Pitt.
And besides, what about the cats?
He said no problem.
One night I awoke during the middle of the night, and looked outdoors, at the gently falling snow in the darkness, and there it was, the William Rivers Pitt, all sparkling and multi-colored. He had plugged some light-weight fence-posts into the William Rivers Pitt, and strung cheap Dollar General lights powered from a little tiny portable battery in some metal case.
The lights, when they were lit, but not blinking, read "GWB."
