
So here we go with the usual selection of tasteless yet refined nonsense, this time centered around the weekend’s partying:










And just for the hell of it, an after-party shot:

Happy Monday, y’all.

So here we go with the usual selection of tasteless yet refined nonsense, this time centered around the weekend’s partying:










And just for the hell of it, an after-party shot:

Happy Monday, y’all.
…that would be our Brit Cousins, who yesterday celebrated Boxing Day not by sitting by a warm fire eating crumpets etc., oh no. Apparently, the Boxing Day “tradition” Over There is to freeze your appendages off in this manner:




To quote Obelix: “These Britons are crazy.”
Made certain parts of me shrink just by looking at ’em.
…and the Monday after Christmas, even more reason to be happy:

…or something like that.




And a Christmas message:


And from my own family (Daughter and Son&Heir exchange):

And from the Bad Elf! Bad Elf! Bad Elf! Department:


And that’s it for this Monday.

So on we go:








And just for the hell of it, a blast from the past:


…in these here modern times:



Feel free to add your ideas of other unnecessary driving skills, in Comments.
Longtime Friend&Reader Dave L. shares this tale from his youth:
I left Uncle Sam’s Navy in July of 1974. The economy was a little shaky back in those days and I was struggling to find bean and beer money. I picked up a part time gig in a local photo store. We sold some fairly high end new and used hardware – Nikons, Leicas etc and did the usual photo processing back in the days before digital photography. I might share some of those stories with you but that’s for another time. The point of today’s note is to talk about the music that played in the store.
Our Jewish boss wanted to create a “festive” Christmas atmosphere and he played a continuous loop of holiday music over the PA system. Unfortunately, his play list was only about 45 minutes long so we got to hear the same songs about 8 to 10 times during the course of a work day. You know me as a person of faith and I really love Christmas and the music associated with the holiday, but my love and patience were sorely tested by hearing “The Little Drummer Boy” ten times a day six days a week. If I hadn’t needed the money I would have run screaming out of the shop at chorus number eight or nine of “Pa rum pum pum pum”.
Even today, almost fifty years later, hearing the Little Drummer Boy will make me sweat and shout out “D-Day. Normandy. June Sixth. Eisenhower!”
Wait: Eisenhower?
[exit, giggling helpessly]