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Your Duck is Dead

Do you ever feel like you're trying so hard to keep all of your ducks in a row, keep everything straight and orderly, attending to every little quack and you look away for just a moment and when you turn back, low and behold, one of your ducks is dead?  And you're left holding the bag, the bag for the ducks and now you have to put the dead duck in the bag and try and find a "humane" way to dispose of this little quacker that you were so responsible for, so attentive to, doted over really and now it's just dead and my, it's quiet.  All the other little ducks are now weeping down their beaks for the loss of their brother and you feel like the most irresponsible person on the face of the earth.  How could this have happened?  How could you have lost one of your ducks?  You're so mature, exceptionally responsible, highly trustworthy, and so on and so forth.  And then somebody comes along and says "You...with the dead duck, you're late, and you should have done this and you should have done that."  You really want to respond, but you can barely hear them over the sound of the mourning ducks.  I'm reconsidering the row.  

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This duck caper is proof

This duck caper is proof that goldfish should be kept and not things that can quack.