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I've been having an unusual amount of writer's block with this email. It occurs to me that a decade ago (shut up) I managed to routinely produce small comic gems for your entertainment, like an alcoholic Dave Barry. These days, every word is a painful extraction from my psyche. Has my talent, I wonder, ebbed away with my youth? Perhaps. More importantly, I ultimately found myself liberated by the simple realization that I no longer give a crap about quality. Welcome to middle age, kids!
We're going to Brass Monkey this week; I imagine you'll like it there. I would once have worked some Beastie Boys lyrics into a clever format here, but really, who would I be trying to impress? Greg Smith? He ain't here anymore.
See you there!
-Mike B is B, Adrock drinks three (oh yeah, I still got it)