Things have taken a grim turn at the McEnroe storm redoubt. The pizzerias aren't delivering and the men are reduced to desperate forays out back in the darkness and gale-force winds to scavenge non-alcoholic beers from the over-drifted porch cache as the blizzard claws at the siding.
The food situation is becoming awkward. Certain parties have been caught staring at the plumper nieces and nephews and fingering the matched set of Ginsu carving knives on the kitchen counter.
I will try to keep this journal going for as long as my last real beer holds out.
I'm saying a prayer, John, I'm saying a prayer for the whole world...
The Nazis, at least, were more smartly dressed
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The only things missing are the brown shirts and the jackboots.
This is what's going on at @Columbia. Must Watch. pic.twitter.com/CVBsHRZTJ1
— Documenting...
10 minutes ago
1 comment:
Memo, try to keep all grandchildren, nephews and nieces away from Richard until said snow has disapeared.
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