There is a sandstorm blowing in from Africa, and it is supposed to make things really gross and uncomfortable around here. As opposed to what? The mosquito-laden soup we walk around in all day? The liquid heat of the Publix parking lot? Just when you thought the worst was upon you, up comes a sandstorm from Africa, fabulous.
Fortunately, I will be well on my way north by the time it hits, and hopefully I’ll be blowing bubbles in the Oconee river later today, or eating cheese grits, drinking cold iced tea somewhere along the way.
Just because I’m gone don’t think you can just do whatever you want around here. I’ll be keeping an eye on things, assuming Georgia has the internet.
If anybody really wants to address the teeming hordes, get word to Sasquatch and we can arrange for you to get the keys to the city for a day.
Down here in Dixie we say, “Welp” right before we segue into a departure, I’m not sure what the ‘p’ is for, but here goes…
…Welp, I’m out of here, time to go watch Lance Armstrong drag everyone around the Champs Elysees for the last time. No speculation about a return to cycling for him, that dude is over it.
Thanks for tuning in, drink plenty of fluids. (insert crass joke here)