HHD

Good morning, and welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day.
This song reminds me of simpler days. Both brothers-in-law would dance with Mr. RFH’s sisters to this song. “Jersey Boy” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. Of course, this was long before Springsteen turned into a liberal turd, or if he was, he kept it on the down low.

I’m going to miss her.
On to the hunks.

Thursday In A Hurry

Everyone but me has an excuse why they can’t be at camp to supervise the load of crushed rock we’re getting. When we bought the camp several years ago the driveway was covered with crushed rock. Some idiot tried to help by plowing the driveway of snow in the winter when we weren’t there. Most of the rock ended up on the lawn and dirt road. When it rains the driveway is a morass.

In Which Sean Holds Himself Up to Ridicule

You know, I used to absolutely hate poetry.  Hated reading it, hated writing it, just generally hated everything about it.  I was a prose guy, and I thought there was something silly and frivolous about scribbling thoughts into stanzas and trying to get them to scan and rhyme and all that crap.

Then, something changed.  Maybe it was getting sober, though I have no idea why that would have any bearing on this.  But over the past few years, I’ve found that there are certain instances where I can best put my thoughts in order by taking up quill and scroll and just churning out some of the old doggerel.

Before we go any further, let’s just get this out of the way here and now:

 

Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with that (yeah), allow me if you will to emote all over you below:

BBF

Hello medicators, and welcome to Big Boob Friday.

 

 

 

 

Your model was born August 7, 1978 in Wembley, England. 5′ 4“, 46-26-36 and 122 lbs, please welcome Miss Linsey Dawn McKenzie!

New day new poat

Trebuchet team hit the road an hour ago. I was going to binge-watch “Last Man Standing” but “leaving Sept. 30” was 12:01 AM, not 11:59 PM. Bummer. So let’s see what’s in the funneh folder for today.
For Mare and me.

BBF

Hello  hungry friends, and welcome to Big Boob Friday.

 

 

Your model was born June 1st, 1987 in Prague, Czech Republic.  5’8″, 40F-28-36 and 136 lbs, please say hello to Miss Shione Cooper!

 

David Brooks is the Sandwich Artist of Virtue Signaling

From the NYTimes, so don’t click.

Recently I took a friend with only a high school degree to lunch. Insensitively, I led her into a gourmet sandwich shop. Suddenly I saw her face freeze up as she was confronted with sandwiches named “Padrino” and “Pomodoro” and ingredients like soppressata, capicollo and a striata baguette. I quickly asked her if she wanted to go somewhere else and she anxiously nodded yes and we ate Mexican.

American upper-middle-class culture (where the opportunities are) is now laced with cultural signifiers that are completely illegible unless you happen to have grown up in this class. They play on the normal human fear of humiliation and exclusion. Their chief message is, “You are not welcome here.”

–David Brooks

Weekend Good Boy

 

 

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

Pick a letter, any letter. Alright…keep it in your head. was it an “A”? Great. Now choose any odd number between 1 and 99. Next add your age. Divide by 4. The answer, if my calculations are right, is that Bill Clinton and Bill Cosby share more than a common first name.

RIP, Lipstick

A sweet lady passed away much too soon.

I met Lipstick at the Tempe In The Sun meatup and have fond memories of sitting by the pool, talking about this and that, and giggling about Chad. I never did get the full story of why Lipstick’s feet are included in Proof of Life, so I hope someone can fill me in.
I have family near Lipstick’s hometown and can personally vouch for Windber Hospice as good people.
I don’t know what else to say, other than I’m glad to have known her and I’m so sorry she’s left us.
Feel free to update this poat.
Thank you, Scott, for letting us know.