Yep I’ve had seven in about the same span.

May the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back….

And as if L.A. weren’t an attractive place to live in and of itself — which, being San Franciscan, I might agree with, but I’d be wrong.

I’ve heard them many times before, but not in this particular rhythm. Also, beyond hooting, this one barked almost like a dog.

Also, the John of Εν αρχηι ην ό λόγος and the extended surreal tautology of that gospel, which is why (before my defining crisis of faith) I chose that confirmation name.

I’d give it a whole different personal context. John, my Catholic confirmation name. St. John’s, my elementary school. St. John’s, my college. The Saint-Jean, ship on which my ancestor Jehan Terriau sailed in 1635 to Acadie. Your group had a woeful fixation and lack of imagination.

This Ironworker objects to their portrayal in our realm.

The driver appears to be seeking direction that the Summa does not provide.

My wife very happily showed me this this morning:

youtu.be/EXFyWQ-RhlY?...

CalOSHA-certified hardhat replacement, I remind you, per his own description

I know, I know, too mundane, too vinegary, etc. etc., but it dwells on my table, right in front of me right now: Tabasco. Also, I visited the factory and was charmed, and it’s in Acadiana, land of my cousins, where there are two villages bearing my surname, spelled their way.

Fantasy can also be dystopian.

The horrible electrical spasms in my lungs, my guts every time these murders are announced, and these my hands with nothing they can do.

Also, the coiling of the guy line at bottom would seem to hinder turning of the turnbuckle from which it hangs, which would have been done AFTER the clamps were secured; makes it even likelier he was pretending, for a pose.

Ironworker here. Sky Boy is tightening a clamp on a guy line for a guy derrick.

Or pretending to; I see no wrench in his hand.

Sometimes nearing home from a ride on my 1972 Gitane I’ll stop at a San Francisco bakery and stick a baguette in brown paper down the back of my jersey and while finishing pretend I’m Bernard Hinault after a workout.

Me and the Trump International Hotel in Vegas during his first go-round, 2017, when I was staying nearby for union district council meetings.

You can see it returned the gesture.