mesmerism! presidential assassinations! circuses on fire!
The Gemenids were the highlight of '31. The middle of December J-Bo in his pained reading rictus got through to the Prior: "There will be meteors. A shower, even, a glorious show for those ain't got cable."
The Prior, by then wizened and intent mostly on the phantom pains emanating from the Roh Stump, nodded mechanically in the way he'd come to. His eyes, yellow when they had a color to speak of were clear later when J-Bo dragged the Prior on top of the overpass. Ragtag and toothless their neighbors oohed and like owls moved necks but not heads and a flipper babby wearing a Scarlett jumper made up-chuck.
J-Bo, in rolls and wrinkles like that babby, a thousand pounds heavier, looked longinly on his partner. The prior said: "J-Bo, I declare our downfall, and the volcano that done swallowed CBus, and all my trials through gout and whatnot, up to and including the botched peener-surgery that tooked old Coach Tre hisself..." The Prior studied his duct-tape loafer. "Well, J, I say that the whole of that sufferin', all our travail, it's abound to be done in '32. I feel the good times, and I smell the iron blood of RichRod near.
Middle of January and the Prior and J-Bo were down to a rancid twizzler and a bouillon cube between them and cold starvation. Before a flatscreen in a storefront, air raid horns all around but snuggled tight their dotted eyes saw RichRod and a press conference. "He's close, Prior." J-Bo cupped one of Prior's cheeks, and not since '09 had that glint he'd seen in the latter's eyes.
"Oh yes, he's close." They kissed.
...to be continued...
Danny has advice for the boards:
Danny: Sit down man, find your neutral space. You have done something to your team. You have made it spread. If I lay 10 mills of Harbaughzipan on you, you will do something else to your team, you will make it conventional and douchey. Why trust one team rather than the other. That politics ain't it?
I: I'm going to eat some sugar.
Danny: I recommend you wait for returns on recruiting.
I: No way, no fucking way.
Danny: That is an unfortunate political decision.
Withnail: What are you talking about Danny?
Danny: If you are holding onto a rising balloon you are presented with a difficult political decision - let go while you've still got the chance or hold onto the rope and continue getting higher. That's politics man. We are at the end of an age. The most painful decade in the history of Michigan is nearly over. They're selling Tressel Vests in Ypsi. It is 46 days to the end of the decade and as the MSM has so consistently pointed out, we have failed to paint it blue .