Don't you remember the old days?

Meeting RT and Punko down the shore.

Remembering idiotic memories of a night-time so far away. Streets of Fire blares, Penguins on the tee vee, Alex Rodriguez homer.

Kitty kat passes my way, time spent out on the lawn today. Place looks out over a body of water, and Artie reveals to me more of his evil plot to rule the world through Heresy.

But I Digress.

The latest phenomenon sweeping the nation is apparently the four-hour workweek.

"I'm totally Retardo Montalban," notes RT.

John and I watch the game, analyzing what happpened

"The only reason I watch NBA basketball is because of Brad."

I stop in my tracks.

"We're seeing Willie Nelson, Mellencamp, Neil Young," Punko stops. "What?"

"What the hell did you just say?" I ask.

"At the concert. Who the hell was the third guy?"

"I don't know, I'll look it up." I start tapping away at the computer, at which I had already started this blog post."

"You know that guy," Punko is frustrated.

"Dude, who the hell is Brad?"

"Brad Miller."

Seriously, Punko said this at least two more times. Artie and I could not believe such a fucking ridiculous joke. So bad you had to just ignore it.

"Dude," I finally break down and ask, "are you secretly gay for Brad Miller."

"The violent dry heaving was probably not a good thing," Artie says, wiping his mouth as he emerges from the bathroom.

He's a walking soundbite." says Punko.

So I continue on with my Bierman Elkin story.