I'm sure I've told this story many a time, but I never tire of telling it! My sisters adored the young "soprano" Donny Osmond (who had a range of octaves rivaling that of the young Michael Jackson). And, suffice it to say, I was not a convert. One glorious night, I was passing through the family room while dear Donny was crooning. Praise our wonder-working God! Donny's voice suddenly cracked as he unsuccessfully attempted to hit a very high note! The poor lad must have had a sudden burst of testosterone flowing through his adolescent bloodstream. I was unexpectedly showered with a great windfall of years of ammunition with which to blast my teeny-bopper sisters... It was a delicious reversal of fortunes on the order of magnitude of Wile E. Coyote sitting down to a sumptuous supper of baked road-runner. Completely unexpected and completely satisfying. Just wait until you get a few sons...I believe that now Donny Osmond hosts a morning show in the Los Angeles radio market. Or is that Danny Bonaduce? Osmond, Partridge -- all the same to me.
Parresian eis ten Eisodon ton Hagion
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