Big Wayne 7

You may remember this ...

Which is Big Wayne six.

Okay -- now pretend you're a Democrat.  Some of you don't have to pretend; this is for the Others.  Now, remember back in the old days how easy it was to hate John Boehner?  These days he seems like the absolute voice of reason in the Republican party (which, granted, is a low bar.  But still ... ).  But in the early days of Obamania, he felt to many like the devil incarnate.

And part of the problem was that omnipresent tan.  I thought it was weird and slightly otherworldly.  And LaPierre must go to the same tanning salon as Boehner because he's always tan too.

And it's the capturing of that tan (which I can assure you is more problematic than just washing on some orange-ish brown-ish yellow) that's keeping me awake at night.  Nonetheless, we press forward, against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Or something like that.

Here's a piece of a classic post ...

Some days the current is so strong you're swimming at what seems to be a great rate when, in fact, the river bank is slowly going by... the wrong way. These days, though, I'm pleased to announce, headway is being made. I see less of the sun. I'm seeing lots of green. I'm at one with the river. Which is good, 'cause if you're not, there's more damned things swimming around next to you that would like to bite or otherwise fuck with you than you can shake a stick at.

The snakes make the best eating. Once you get good at it; once you've mastered your gag reflex, you just grab 'em, bite their heads off, and then slide 'em down your throat. Don't even have to stop swimming. Shit 'em out about a day and a half later, bones and all, usually (for me at least) around what I assume to be ten thirty in the morning.

Conrad couldn't have said it better.