'Tis a double post this fine Friday evening, as is usually the case when the post comes out late. 'Tis the season for so much to do and so little time. We begin with a spin traveling in a world of my creation, as we discuss one single solitary individual who once ascended the heights, and now has fallen.
My friends, El Hefe has left us. He of shoot-from-the-hip faith went prospecting in the hills with them there forty-niners, and found only one good reason to take a knee: his second loss. We bid him adieu in 40th place.
As for the rest, little change. Everyone else was successful. The Lions and Bears threatened to make the Reaper work a bit, oh my, but proved as anti-climatic as the Wizard himself.
And so we turn our attentions from the Taunt portion to the Root portion, given that the weekend is upon us already and my schedule is fuller than John Stamos' house -- which brings us to the three lovely ladies getting their groove on up top.
Can you pay my bills? Can you pay my telephone bills? Can you pay my automo-bills? If Sexy Rexy pays my bills maybe then in Week 15 we can chill. Until then, like Lunchmoney Lewis, I got bills.
That is all.
