We're thinking of shutting the Museum down during daylight hours until this Inferno blows over, working through the cool night.
Jebus Gob, y'all. Hot.
Lots of good stuff in Philly today, frankly, some amazing stuff, but I'm tired and hot and not drunk so I'll write about it later.
Paul's grandfather was a clean old man, indeed. Or at least he appeared to be one and claimed the adjective repeatedly.
Ice for the ladies, drinks for me.
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I'd like to donate my prize to the hard working museum staff.
Can't chat, must get back to coaching Celtics. Doc Rivers keeps calling, he's all agitated and needy.
Doc!
Celts!
Come on.
As my father used to patiently explain to my aggrieved mother,
"These are the Finals. It is the Ultimate Reality."
Mom would hold his eye, hold back the sigh and just walk away with no comprehension but all of her dignity.
Class act, my Mom.
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