STATISTICALLY IMPORTANT SAMPLE OF SCUM

Several of the poisonous lizards that I tend to did not make it in today. I expect their wives forced them to change their incontinence diapers and do family things. I did not miss them. Their kin are welcome to their company. Instead of having to devote my considerable talents to shutting out their noise, I repaired a Peterson that Herb smokes on his boat in the middle of San Francisco Bay, as well as cleaning up a rusticated Dublin which belongs to Robert.

They're decent men, about my age, educated, with iffy smoking habits.

No clue whether either man is married.


Jeff wasn't in today, thank Providence. He's drunk the Kool-aid, and is not only physically hard of hearing, but mentally as well. And he whines. A very MAGA piece of work.
He's been voted most likely to die of acid indigestion.

I enjoyed the peace. Smoked four pipefuls. The briars were Charatan, Gubbel & Zonen, Comoy, Peterson. The tobacco was from C & D. So it was a good day at work.

One thing overheard: "Anything can become a fight club if you try hard enough."

That was, more or less, pursuant the President's cabinet.
Particularly the tattooed bigoted freak.

Try harder, dingos.



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