Keep calm and pass the wax
So, because there isn’t enough woe in the current world, I’ve been watching a documentary series about the fall of the Russian empire as revolution raged in the early part of the last century. Now, the czar himself was an utter bonehead and the entire country was just wall-to-wall misery, but you know what they had going for them still? Bitchin’ mustaches. The men, mostly. From the highest ministers to the lowest peasant, they sported these thick, beautifully sculpted beards, but it was the mustaches, long and curled into hooks at the end, that really shone through. Really bitchin’. A mustache like that makes a fellow look like one who could rebuild a truck engine and opine about the pros and cons of the Socratic Method at the same time. I need to get one of those stashes like yesterday. Unfortunately, I asked around to see how a guy would go about becoming thusly mustachioed and was advised that it requires a certain type of wax. That sounds like way too much work for me, so I’ll just labor on through our own chaos with this limp caterpillar of a stash.
Sing We Now of Christmas
Several times throughout a typical year, I get caught humming or outright crooning Christmas songs at inappropriate times. “Carol of the Bells,” on May Day, for instance, or “Good King Wenceslas” on the Fourth of July. Drives people crazy, which I generally enjoy doing. But the ironic thing about this is that come Christmas, I don’t hum, sing or otherwise warble holiday tunes at all. It’s very odd. I think we all know what I need to set as a New Year’s resolution. Psychiatric treatment, and pronto!
And speaking of Christmas
Sources tell me that it’s next week. NEXT! WEEK! How did that happen? Why, I’m still floating in the afterglow of Halloween all up in here. In the heartbeat monotone of my regular life, I seem to have lost track of all time. Which is just my roundabout way of relating that I’m not getting you nuthin’ this year.
Chipotle opens in Auburn
I refuse to patronize this business until they allow us to pronounce it as it’s spelled — which is chip-POTtle, just so you’ll know. When I try to pronounce it the right way, stuff flies out of my mouth and people get all mad.
‘OTELCO hires Stephen Collins’
Congratulations, Mr. Collins. I don’t know who you are or what you do, but I’m a few column inches short of topping this column off, so yeah. You’re it.
And speaking of Christmas again
Have a merry one, wherever you are and whomever you’re with. I dropped the ball, shopping-wise, but I’d like to give you the gift of song for the holidays. A little something by Metallica. I think you’re gonna like it.
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