I really am getting too old for this. Friday night, pizza and wine. And wine. And wine. So to help recover, last night we added WebDom and 1ObOT and… more wine. This time, a wonderful Finger Lakes Riesling from Forge (2020 Sunrise Hill) and a legendary Syrah (1999 Jamet Cote-Rotie). Maybe a few dabs, but who can remember?

Right now, every bit of me feels double my age. This “getting older” shit has to stop, it’s getting in the way of partying. Ironically, the thing that really did us in was a superb vintage Port (1992 Fonseca), gifted to us by C. Anacreon.

But I celebrate birthdays of others, including a guy with an AAA rating; a guy who pushed the edge of the envelope; the go-to guy for movie roles even heavier than Sydney Greenstreet; the spiritual father of this website; a guy whose breath always smelled like parsley; a guy who was a nutcase but a pretty fine artist; a guy who had a thing for teenagers; a guy who was the echt-Mr. Saturday Night and fell into a truly perfect grift; a chick who made an iconic name by putting her hands out; and my most perfect redhead.

Liiiiiiinks!

 

“He doesn’t want to kill enough Jews.”

 

“And where’s my PUDDING? It’s time for PUDDING!”

 

How about a compromise: Disband DHS. 

 

You get to the point where even SugarFree can’t make this shit up.

 

Poe’s Law is tested yet again.

 

Support your local library.

 

Fucking die already, you piece of shit.

 

OK, you got the Old Man back and with a great old tune by the leading creator of modern jazz, a crazy genius, the guy who could topologically bend timing into a musical Moebius. No idea why the featured photo is the bassist, though (the relatively obscure Larry Gales).