It's another stinking lousy day down here at the beacc, still no surfing contet. This rube facing a concrete bonfire enclosure at TinCan beach is simply sad and pathetic. Where on gawd's green earth did you dig him up. Today is July 4th. I hope you hire someone innovative to fill the void. Thank you.
11 comments:
What's the fellow pointing at anyway.
Or better yet, what's in his pocket?
A rocket.
I think Johnny Cash recordrd that song didn't he? Flocking from near and far is kinda'of a metaphor.
stagger--it sure in hell ain't a simile.
It's another stinking lousy day down here at the beacc, still no surfing contet. This rube facing a concrete bonfire enclosure at TinCan beach is simply sad and pathetic. Where on gawd's green earth did you dig him up. Today is July 4th. I hope you hire someone innovative to fill the void. Thank you.
p.s. innovative means neither hand
I don't remember Tin Can beach having palm trees. It did have some soulful shacks.
Anon', you have an impeccable memory alright. Who lived in them
shacks of soul. Lifeguards, beach bums, oilfield workers, who? We must know.
BK has longer digit.
I don't know who lived in them, but my dad would get fishing advice from them. Do you remember why they tore them all down?
Anon'#4, the State took over Bolsa Chica, tore them down.
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