So I arrive in Idaho for Weekend At Spud’s, he whisks me home from the airport, and the first thing he shows the Visiting Jew is a large, outside oven. Classy, dude, classy. We then proceeded to bash our livers into the size and consistency of a walnut with some pretty classy spoiled grape juice and perhaps a few brown spirits, as well as raise our cholesterol to four digit levels with our usual cooking. The best part was going produce shopping; it was just like our old days in California, where the cashiers would knowingly smile at the two guys sharing a shopping cart and obsessively selecting produce. This time, add the matching Glibs masks. If I didn’t find that hilarious, I would point out that gay guys don’t dress this badly. But it gave us cred at the Proggie shopping venues.
Speaking of which, here’s a jarring segue to birthdays, including that of a guy who wasn’t one of the Wright Brothers; the great-great-grandpa of Instant Pot; the greatest cartoonist EVER and don’t even bother fighting me, it’s objectively true; my historical celebrity crush; a writer who, let’s admit it, was very uneven; and a fun general named after a zit.
Speaking of zits, here’s some news stories.
Old Guy Music is Tool because, well, Tool.