You never know who will come walking into the lobby bar at the Castle Gormogon.
|Hello! I wonder if you all remember me at your site, but I used to write you back when men were men and TVs were low definition. I still sporadically read your wonderful blog and I was wondering if you all have had enough posts about Catholics and who to vote for come November. Which is just realized the other day is a distressingly close date.
Also, I’m glad that you all mentioned Hillary looking so sickly and such because I wonder if she’ll last until Inauguration day. I fear that she’ll be elected.
Of course, I’ve had similar thoughts about Pope Francis and his health. I had assurances from a friend that he wouldn’t last the summer and he’s still going (somewhat) strong. I don’t know if it’s commonly known, but he really can’t do much physically or he gets tired extremely quickly.
Welp! Big Gulps, huh? See ya.
Glad you’re back from that crazy assignment one of us put you on. And glad to see you’re still keeping track of our written missives, which are very important.
Our own good Dr. J., whom we barely remember, has taken considerable note of Mrs. Clinton’s health, and has made some rather alarming observations as to what it could be, and it isn’t pretty. If we all ask really nice, perhaps he’ll write something up and post it here.
Regarding the Pope, well, let the Czar simply say that perhaps he could be directing his attention more to spiritual matters and less to global economics which do not seem to be the Pope’s college major.
Божію Поспѣшествующею Милостію Мы, Дима Грозный Императоръ и Самодержецъ Всероссiйскiй, цѣсарь Московскiй. The Czar was born in the steppes of Russia in 1267, and was cheated out of total control of all Russia upon the death of Boris Mikhailovich, who replaced Alexander Yaroslav Nevsky in 1263. However, in 1283, our Czar was passed over due to a clerical error and the rule of all Russia went to his second cousin Daniil (Даниил Александрович), whom Czar still resents. As a half-hearted apology, the Czar was awarded control over Muscovy, inconveniently located 5,000 miles away just outside Chicago. He now spends his time seething about this and writing about other stuff that bothers him.