After the Yellow Bar

It is a new day. Maybe not a great one, but a new one.

The apocalypse of creative and funny versus corporate and restrictive mutually-assured destruction occurred, and now we find ourselves naked and bruised but definitely not alone navigating this nuclear winter. Rather than licking our wounds over what had been, let us appreciate what we have. Take stock in possibilities. Out of destruction, we have the humor and the sincerity of truly witty and brilliant friends brought together through the rubble, through the ash, to make fun of yet another season and to share our lives along the way.  We will mourn our friends lost and fallen heroes, but it is our responsibility to marshal on.

…. And to endlessly jeer the ‘Boys—and Horatio in the process—for things like Romo missing practice camp Friday and being questionable for today on account of treatment for a sty. The Romophobe is off to beginning this season’s camp with a whimper and not a bang thanks to (what I am assuming) is a horrible and disfiguring eyelid pimple. (Ha, take that for everyone who had him out in Game 11 with disc compression!) I just hope that it hasn’t impeded the good works of artsy-craftsy Romo.  For those unfamiliar, this is a sty, albeit, not the best of artistic renderings.

Channel your inner or outer foot fetishist.  Embrace our new society without pants.  We don’t have to be up for# whatever here.  So let’s start sharing our toothpaste, toilet paper, and cans of Cream of Mushroom and make the new era our era.   Let our doors fly open!

It is a new day.  It may not be a great one, but it is our day.

So… HOW THE FUCK YOU DOIN’ BOYS?