Safari Time
Well, buckaroos, it’s that time of year when old Skeeter provisions up and heads for the hunting fields on our annual Beer Hunt. Usually we head up into the Cascades, but after 30 years or so of these hunts, the herds are thinning and so, being the good conservationists we are, we decided to mosey down to Arizona, see what wildlife is to be had in their border wall state. No, the beers aren’t likely to be as savory, more likely warm as spit too. But in this era of anti-EPA, anti-Green, someone has to step it up a notch or three.
So as always in these difficult times, break away from the lying press awhile, forget about the N. Koreans and the Trumpster, stop worrying about WW3 and economic Armageddon, just sit back and scroll to the bottom of these 2000 plus blog reports for the Good Old Daze of those times when the world seemed so full of promise and we thought we had the filthy oligarchs where we wanted them. No, not jail, but at least at arm’s length and worried about prison time. I know you won’t … but hey, it’s your ulcer, not mine. I got beers to hunt. Vaya con Dios!
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