But! We have ways of making the day a little better.

 

Alright, a week and a half post-op, and Spud finds himself sprawled on the patio couch for the first time in a bit, spilling his drink between his tits. It was spasm city last night, followed by eight hours of sleep. The bend has been turned.

 

Links, anyone?

 

I’ve said it since the first time the Proud Boys arrived on scene in Portland. They couldn’t organize a picnic.

 

But I thought we had all the answers to everything?!?

 

Why not just a bowl of coke in the break room with a bunch of tiny spoons?

 

“If you create computers smarter than humans, then what’s left for humans?”

 

He couldn’t figure out why a hotdog was $50.

 

All right, a bag of ice is calling my name. Peace out, Glibbies.