This is my “O” face.


Saturdays are my day off. As much as I can get a day off. I wrote this one off about noon. Whiskey in the afternoon can be liberating.


You know what happened today?!? People had birthdays!


Does this hotdog smell funny?


If they hadn’t closed Coney Island, this would have never made the news.


Icarus flew too high.


I may never go outside again.


Making hotdogs?


Nuts need to be punched, wood chippers and rusty chainsaws need to be employed and survivors need to be fired.


Darwin approved.


Think I’ll go get me a hot dog.


If wishes were horses, rides would be free. If Huntley were Cronkite, we’d watch NBC.


Almost enough to make me swear off hotdogs.


Sometimes, Saturday night can be lonely.