Fall is in in the air in my part of town, which means I get to finally start eating carbs again as I hide my many shames behind curtains of flannel and fleece and more shame.
You can have the Summer of George. Now is the time for Uncle Ben to spread his wings, slurp on $3 High Life’s (High Lives? High’s Life?) in crowded bars on fall Saturday’s and leave the foolishness that poisons TV on Sunday for the fools. If you watched even a second of the shit sandwich we were served on Thursday Night Football, then I have no space for you in my circle.