Neanderpundit

verily did the Anarchangel slay the small, saucer shaped fowl, and there was much rejoicing; thus did the people praise the Lord’s mighty power, and grovel in awe in his presence, and they didst feast on the fruit-bat, and the orang-outang, and the pate, and the breakfast cereal.
The lord looked down upon His People, and in His mighty Eye, he found it good.

And then did the Lord speak:
“Verily, with my Rod and my Staff I shall shepherd you,
and with my 1911A1 I shall slay the unbelievers
and there will be great celebration
and John Moses Browning will come down
like an angel from Heaven, and he will bring my blessing
upon the blowback automatics
and the gas-operated machine rifles
and the Holy Shotgun of Antioch, the Browning A-5.”

And again, didst the people rejoice,
even unto the rejoicing too much,
and Kurdosh of the Jamekites lamenteth
” Verily, I hath eaten the entire thing”
and much Bicarbonite of Soda was consumed.

you get thrown out of a bar.
Well, I didn’t all by myself, the group I was with did. One of my colleagues has moved on to other, greener pastures, and yesterday was his last day. So we went to a local watering hole, and tipped a few. Well, I didn’t, but i did have ONE, in his honor. The rest of the crew, however….

Suffice to say that the manager came to the table several times to suggest we desist in any of several different activities, and the bartender cut us off after two guys ended up under the table, ostensibly wrestling but really more like a gropefest. I nearly had to pop one guy because he didn’t seem to want to keep his hands off the one (married) lady present, and finally the manager requested we depart. We did pay the tab and make a considerable donation to the college fund of our waitress.

While I was not inebriated I was also not entirely innocent of the shenanigans of the crew. I simply prefer to be less obvious, and more devious. Like mixing Wasabi into one guy’s beer, which he blamed on the person next to him, which ended up in a wrestling match, the result of which was a fine spray of stout in the hair of all present.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press club:
It’s none of your business. Next!