We spent Christmas day with the nonagenarians in Red Stick. I didn’t eat off anyone’s plate this year but still seem to have come down with some sort of bug. I may have caught it from my personal rabbi Jerry who has lived to be 98 without eating any vegetables in the last 50 years.
It’s the time of the year in New Orleans when it gets foggier than hell. It’s not super thick today, but it’s gloomy enough to make me feel dense and dim. Or is that the wee bug I have? Beats the hell outta me.
When we were in Baton Rouge, we stayed at a pretty darn nice hotel on the LSU campus. It adjoins the Alumni Center and is chock-full-o-donor plaques. which is kinda weird at a hotel but what’s not to love about a Shaq plaque?
It’s really more of a lounge than a lodge but who am I to argue with Shaquille O’Neal? I’m no Kobe Bryant. I pass the ball and play defense…
I am, of course, excited about tomorrow’s LSU-Oklahoma playoff game in Atlanta. It should be a peach of a game at the Peach Bowl. I expect the Tigers to win, which means I can continue doing my Coach O impression:
In blogosphere related news, it’s time for the annual Jon Swift Roundup of the best posts of the year. After Jon Swift/Al Weisel passed away, our friend Batocchio of Vagabond Scholar fame picked up the torch and continued the tradition. I submitted one of the first posts I wrote in 2019, The Wind Cries Willard, which is about a certain Mittbotic Senator who blows with the wind. It will also be the first post in this year’s Best of Adrastos, which lands tomorrow.
I don’t want to worsen my condition by writing about President* Pennywise. What’s more nauseating than an impeached Insult Comedian with a dead nutria pelt atop his head?
That concludes this potpourri post, which was all sizzle and no steak. The mere thought of Kobe Beef or Bryant makes me feel foggy and wobbly. I should lie down because Shaq isn’t here to catch me and Paul Drake is too busy marking his latest box to help:
The last word goes to BNL with a song that aptly describes this post: