






With the world in turmoil and transition, survivalism has gained momentum. And while most preppers are stocked up on dehydrated milk and canned charro beans, these savvy Georgians have added a barrel of Wolf's Head Lube to their list. Granted, Paul seems to be scratching his head, wondering if they went a little overboard in absconding with the barrel version . But honestly, can you ever have enough Wolf's Head? I bet some of us would have purchased the barrel size Lysol Wipes, if offered. Even if it never goes scarce, inflation is coming, friends. Why not stock up now, while it's still affordable? Perhaps a more reasonable size is suggested. Just make sure to ration!


No, not that one.
The one with the bug eyes.
Thanks, inflation!


Sometimes you scroll through a crispy, fresh new yearbook and can’t help but do a doubletake. That’s exactly what I did with this shot this morning. I thought Medicare was a nationwide health insurance program provided for Boomers and the last bit of the Greatest Generation. Evidently, there was another, less complicated Medicare littering drug store shelves like Atherton’s here, during the year Marilyn Monroe was killed by the Mafia committed suicide. Mary, Jackie, and Kaye were in the know about problematic pimples–and Tussy was the answer.
Not ‘Tussin, the cure-all touted by comedian Chris Rock, although one wonders if cough syrup could, in fact, cure outbreaks. Perhaps it could help with “breakthrough” COVID cases?

Nope, this Tussy was targeted at teens, not windpipes. As you can see, Tussy got top billing!




Everyone knows the manger was lined with marigold silk. It’s just a matter of draping.

Shepherds watched their flocks by night, gripping staffs of Reynolds Wrap.
What do you suppose that fellow on the ladder is doing?

Ed Price, the person of nominally lighter color, volunteers in ceremonial dress while a Sarawak gives him a temporary sample of sea dyak tattoos, tribal art from Borneo. What do you think? Too much?


You cannot tell by the expressions on the faces of these short-haired ladies, but they were truly in the presence of not only higher education, but higher decoration. So much is left to the imagination! Is that a tree on the left? If so, is this a Japanese painting of a willow tree at a stream? Is it prairie grass? Helter skelter? Kilroy was here? Is it simply the crayon chaos of a toddler? No matter. Patty, put more parmesan on the pizza.
These fellows presumably were denied the scrawled ambience of the former picture, but instead had a tableside jukebox. Or its it a phone? I can hardly tell.

Does this booth have a phone as well? Who were folks calling? Maybe in days of yore, before Instagramming your brunch, you called everyone you knew one by one, to describe the way the yolk ran out of the poach as your fork tine punctured it?

All I know is, this little frosh is eating away her cares with a nice serving of dessert! Sometimes it’s sad to be plaid.

