SPIRALS OF GUNK

Well, it's over. All of you morons can stop screaming and celebrating your bowels now. Come down from your clouds and become human again. Sports has ended. For at least a while. "But", you will say, "only foreigners, unpatriotic people, and females, don't relish Football! It's un-American!" Oddly, most of the football fans I know are Trumpite traitors or dickwads.
I judge all of them by that standard.
And it's a stupid game.


Still, I suppose all of you needed an excuse for massive quantities of beer and pizza, now that Chuck E. Cheese has filed for bankruptcy. The animatronic rodent left the venues long ago and is now entertaining arthritic oldsters at retirement homes in Florida. Sort of a more modern version of Lawrence Welk. With teeth. You drown your childish sense of loss in suds.


Yesterday I cleaned up a score of Castellos, including some natural finish bowls. Today two pipes that an elderly man wishes restored so he can display them on his desk in Arizona took up a lot of time. They now draw again, and are smokeable. The meerschaum looks quite good. Altogether I've dealt with eight of his pipes. I find it strange that he never heard of cleaners in over five decades. His shitty draftholes were infinitely more engaging than a football game possibly could be. Drilling them out would have made thrilling television.

I can imagine the screaming fans.



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