A tweet from Brett Lawrie:
So he’s working out with some degree of zeal. He’s doing deep knee bends, leg lifts and trunk twists and then finishing up with a slimming routine, especially after last night’s London Broil, green-bean casserole and gelatin salad. I get it. Right?
Although, a part of me — the part of me that thinks he hears something in the basement even when he’s not at home — believes I’m missing something. From this pathetic remove of years and brown defeats, I wonder whether he’s invoking a rock and or roll Sousa march or perhaps a popular talkie or a dance that forces The Bandstand to aim their cameras above the girdle.
Maybe he really likes to work out, or maybe he’s conjuring up a secret something known only to Young American Thunderclaps and, hence, not to wasted me. I was really hoping he was talking about exercising — good-boy’s push-ups followed by a half-hour on the vibrating belt machine followed by a restorative crap. But I’m sure he’s not.
Brett Lawrie probably talks quite a bit about things I don’t even know exist, being as I am much, much closer to death than Brett Lawrie is.
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