Sean D., domestique extraordinaire, sent this along this morning. J-Pick was right, that is more bikes than I've ever seen in front of the 3rd Base Bar. But as they say in Marquette, "you gotta stop at 3rd before you can head for home."
Arthur C. Clark died yesterday. Bummer. Perhaps the best science fiction writer the world has known? Asimov fans may disagree. Read 2001 and decide for yourself.
2 comments:
Damn, that makes me miss the UP and coasting down 3rd street with the clean breeze in my face on my way to the base for peanuts and trouble.
They don't call it the Regal Beagle for nothing.
Few places there are anymore where the windows are wide open to any ilk of passerby.
And we sat in the booths with an "I don't give a fuck who sees me drinking because I'm here to drink and that's why I'm here" smile whilst sipping drafts from smallish glasses and generous pitchers.
And the plastic dart tips are usually bent, but I don't care about that either 'cause I'm gon' whip ya and quietly take yer money, friend. Cause I'm at the Third Base.
-spondo.
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