Twas 2nd last week of softball, and all 'cross McMurray,
Were hot dogs and skeeters and Bobs Brat slidin fury...
Beers were ice cold,
Jokes of kinkiness were told,
And the Voigts sure did leave in a hurry.

Well folks, it has quickly and stupidly and dumbly and untimely untimely...come to this: the last week of the softball year. (it's not for another week).

A sad day it will be.

Yeah, right! It will be glorious, showered in the victory dance of a possible victory(or not)!

Come one, come all...bring the kids, bring the baby, bring the dog, bring Bob, Zach if he needs a ride, some hustle, some ice, some ketchup and some mustard and some sliced up onion if you don't bike to the park(just kidding, I got this: I'm bring little slivers of onions, to celebrate Bob's hustle and Darin's enthusiasm for sandboxes(I don;t know what that means)!

There's a circus in town, and it's a bunch of commoner, about average softball playin life hounds who will be there...or they will be square, like softballs are not.

The game tonight had the itch of a comeback, down 7-1 and brewed as close as 7-5 before the wheels of the barrell went round and round and down the hill...but the hill was mighty, and we drank beers(on the side of that hill) until the mosquitos started freeloadin beers out of our veins like rabid leeches on an injured whale! (for those of you that don't know, that's serious sh!t)....

So, strap on your drinking belt, tie up you sippin shoes, and wear your smokin cap...cuz next week, the Real Brewers show up, the whole damn lot, and we'll do it up for ya'll real nice....right in the CAN!