Are We Not Men? (Hey Sarah, This is for Steve)

I was sitting on a candlelit patio with some friends in the northern corner of the county several months ago,  digesting some damn fine burritos, followed by the best homemade brownies I’ve ever had (really, Sarah) and chocolate chip cookies baked by an expatriot Frenchman,  clop clops of Amish buggies rolling by, scoffing at a redneck imbeciles “rolling coal” through a crossroads village so small that it’s not even a four-way stop, and roiling over old bands from the 70’s and 80’s. (And no, I don’t mean Foreigner and Foghat).

Today, I stumble upon this:


Then add this: