Good Morning Polyhistors,
First off I’d like to insist our “Commander in Chief” is a complete nitwit and fear for my family’s well-being. To add to the already too many issues I have with him, please somebody teach him a few other adjectives besides tremendous, fabulous, great, fantastic, incredible, and remarkable. If you took the above words away he’d be unable to speak. What a fabulous blessing that would be!
Sorry about that… I had to vent given all the catastrophic happenings that have occurred over the last 60 days. Now you can add that according to Trump, he invented the word ‘fake’ to his many accomplishments. What a maroon!
We had a bit of ugliness at the Maggot yesterday in which I allowed my inside-voice to rise above the cacophonous collection of clucks at the bar. The older I get the less tolerance I have for idiots speaking authoritatively about anything!
Tom’s “mind is like a soup dish; wide and shallow holding little amounts of anything.” He is one of those individuals we’ve all had to endure at a bar. In my humble opinion, these know-it-alls were best represented by the TV character ‘Cliff Clavin’ of the U.S. Postal Service on ‘Cheers.’ I refer to those eunuchs as ‘Cliffie’ or Clavin.
Now that the Rockies season has ended, the NFL is dragging unsuspecting otherwise normal people into the statistical minutia only fantasy football players would enjoy. We’re all at the mercy of self-appointed fat-headed commentators spewing “Clavin-ism” regurgitating what they’ve heard on ESPN.
With Tom it could be anything! He’d identify a piece of fur hanging from a hook as a Marmot when clearly it was a Beaver. If you described how badly you sliced a golf ball, he’d come back with how his shot boomeranged landing only 10 feet from where he was standing. No matter the topic and who was speaking, he injects himself into the conversation and one up anything that was said by being contrary and rude.
To my delight, Tom was regaling us about how a player was on the decline when Brent who actually forms his own opinions shot him out of the saddle; exposing our resident ‘Cliffie’ as the dullard he is. So while he was trying to find a snappy retort I said, “You’re an idiot”… to which he replied, “No I’m not” a scalding come-back to be sure! He left in a huff.
I go to Maggot’s to unwind with a few Vodka Tonics, listen to mostly good music, and catch up with a few friends I’ve made over the last 18 months.
Cushman…. On a personal note, you have got to force yourself not to make eye-contact and/or speak with this putz when you are in my company! This will be the only warning you get, as next time “I shall fart in your general direction!” Jeez…