I’ll just warn you right up front that this whole post makes me howl with laughter. But it could be a kind of idiosyncratic humor that fails out there in the real world. Read on with that caveat in mind.
Because fate has not seen fit to bring together Sarcastro, the Nashville Knucklehead, and CeeElCee, I’m forced to do it myself. Sadly, I don’t have time today to run around town kidnapping old men in their forties and forcing them to drink beer and gab for my amusement and so I’ve done the next best thing and brought their blogs together.
Let’s see what happens.
Imagine with me a hot day at the end of May. A conversation between three men…
Knuck: I’m going to spend all day today pondering questions like, “can I just use joist hangers for those stair stringers or do I need to use lag bolts?” and “can I just bury those two by tens when the ramp gets to the ground, or do I need to cut them?” or, “is this hole deep enough to support that post?”
Sarcastro: One of the cornerstones of my hyphenated-American culture is working in the yard.
Knuck: You see it coming, don’t you? If you know the answers to those kind of questions, come on by and help.
CeeElCee: I now have several good friends who are nurses at various hospitals around town.
Knuck: I’m nervous as hell. I’m nearly broke.
CeeElCee (an aside to Sarcastro): When he talks, he sounds just like Michael Waltrip on the Domino’s Pizza commercials. Creepy.
Sarcastro (musing on the state of the world): The rest of the country views us as backwards shit kickers.
CeeElCee: Who lets their fourteen year old daughters walk around a stadium in low-slung cut off sweat pants and a mini halter top rolled up under their boobs and “USA” painted across their bellies?
Sarcastro: We will remain backwards country folk with a big ol’ buildin’.
Knuck: I make the best damn BBQ I have ever eaten in my life.
Sarcastro: Sir, you need to step up. Time’s a wastin’ and history is awaiting.
Knuck: The requirements are ridiculous.
CeeElCee: Do you remember back when you were 17?
Sarcastro: My inner fourteen year old boy is eagerly awaiting any pics of Holly Thompson at this year’s Steeplechase.
CeeElCee: She has had no problem letting me pet her or rub her belly.
Knuck: I agreed to do it for a blowjob.
Sarcastro: I need a beer. Preferably a Shiner, Abita, or Sweetwater.
Knuck: I bought two Heinekens…
CeeElCee: We came up with a suitable solution. We skimmed the till on you.
Well, there you go, folks. I’ll admit. I was hoping for a little more high-browed discussion, but you take what you can get.