Rally 'Bout, Gents

A fellow Man-Of-Pomp is drawing fire from The Pigs, The Fuzz, The Cops, The Heat. Yep, Todd Sauerbrun is under federal investigation.

This old Bear brings it all to the table: big pipes, prickly attitude, a willingness to be intimate with another GENT in public, the undying admiration of Jerry Glanville, and a nice pooper.

Consider Emergency Pompfest to be the GENTS' answer to the 9/11 Benefit. As Coach Ford calls it, "4/30: We Remember".

Excuse me, did someone call for a.....

An early Friday night off work brings festive images to mind. As does the prospect of Gramps and Wade visiting W'loo tommorrow night.

And speaking of trouser suprises, NashBrowns will be returning to Iowa within the next two weeks. Same with Sensai Locke. My departure date for Alaska is one month from today.

In other words, GENTS, expect a serious bender about the state of Iowa during April. I'm talking shore patrol-calling, Magic Johnson-balling, curb-crawling DRUNK.

Who's In?

An Emergency Pompfest?

Boys,
Locke is coming back? I saw Sengstock at Barnes&Noble today. An emergency Pompfest (Pompfest 2.9: Rossi Showers Bring Gent Callers?) is on the drawing board.

Locke is coming back? (Self Pill-Kick)

A GENT Wannabe Takes The Pipe

Scott Peterson, cut from GENT tryouts years ago after taking on an ugly mistress, was sentenced to the death chamber today.

Although never an official member, Scott was still in my thoughts for a moment there today. His "the Eiffel Tower looks beautiful" phone calls to that skank went straight into the GENT Hall of Fame. Good luck in hell, sir. (pours some Poison from his styro)

Gimme Some Tongue, Joe

Broadway Fucking Joe.



Add one more ingredient to the GENT recipie.

A Gent Turns 20

Somewhere deep in MAC Country this weekend, Zach Hammer (of television's /backslash fame) will celebrate his 20th birthday. Congrats, sir. I think I speak for all of us when I tip my styrofoam cup of amaretto/sour towards you.

20: an age too young for dating women and too old for dating queer men. AKA: right in my wheelhouse. Careful now, son.

JUST A CLOSER WALK WITH THEE

Goddamned. It's March.

And not that I'm upset by that. But March is the time of Irish motherfucker like Nash proclaiming their independence upon the world; not only that, but those bastards drink too. And not a Locke-esque "3 sips of Hypnotic" drink, either. These cocksucker DRINK.

By the way, I'm leaving Waterloo in April. "When in April?" zHammer asks.
"Listen to SUPERMARKET GROCER, asshole", is my reply. Why am I always so surly with another member of the GENT fanclub?

But anyways, I'm leaving. And my last will and testament is forthcoming. It's a bit different from last summer's, but there will be a few similarities. Especially regarding Coach Ford and my body's cavities.

I'm going to bed.....

=R/N'er???