Sunday, December 04, 2005

Drop Kick Me Jesus Through the Goal Posts of Life...

Well, I'm still recovering from the somber soul wringing experience that was George Best's funeral yesterday morning. The day was dark and colorless. Misty and forelorn. Wet and Fucking Cold.

In case you missed it, check out LTA for Jett's (and my) adventures throughout the fair city (Belfast) that we call home for the time being. Though you wouldn't know it from the final cut of the podcast, Jett and I actually spent the better part of 4 hours walking through Belfast, smelling the smells, sighing the sighs, and weeping the weeps... all to bring his Dear Listeners a taste of what it's like when one of the 'Great Ones' kicks it through the big goal posts in the sky and heads to the locker room WITHOUT a red card. I can tell you it was a day I will not soon forget-- mainly because I was sober.

To bring the point home with a sledgehammer that I myself am not immortal, I sat behind THIS guy on the train ride home. My hairline ain't much better. It was a meloncholy journey to say the least.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

You honestly didn't go to the funeral, did you? Admit it.

11:48 pm  
Blogger WOA said...

Ummmmmm... YES! We most surely did! Have you not listened to lettertoamerica.blogs.com? You fool! All questions and doubts are answered there!

11:49 pm  

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