Christmas in Iowa

These guys just don’t get it. Why in the name of Jesus Sweating Christ would anyone want some wild-eyed Rudy sycophant beating down their door when the family is sitting down to Christmas dinner with Grandma and Aunt Elaine is beyond me. Fred Thompson as part of the annual Christmas football game half time extravaganza. Please just kill me now. Rip the flesh off my body, gouge my eyes out with rusty sixteen penny nails, and drag me down the street with my ankles tied to the bumper of Uncle Orville’s Rambler station wagon.

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About The Ancient Randonneur

A randonneur and epicure without a sinecure.
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