And Great White keeps on not bloggin bloggin.
Oh, the days of fearsome warring on the battlegrounds of Hoyt and Chapel.
Oh, the sacrifices of blood in the snow and mud.
It seems that with the thawing of winter's tundra, Kon Disch, too, has gone a little, well, soft and mushy. Gone are the hard edges that define this most elite platoon.
As the Dead tune goes, "All the years combine / they melt into a dream...."
Two low points: on the day of International Dinner, when the Great White was called to assist the womenfolk and children back in the keep, elements of Kon Disch practically mutiny against the guidance of Pouliot.
Then, on Football Monday of this week--the cheating, the lackluster effort, the poor sportsmanship hit a deep, foul bottom.
Soccer Tuesday, though. A return to form. A rebirth of spirited competition. Bacnasty back. The Chucker on fire. Shoes playing some inspired goal. Tony Ja slicin and dicin.
MVP: Chucker, for that sicknasty D that keeps the game tied 1-1.
Basketball Wednesday: Don't know about y'all, but the winners game turned into a rumble of grueling brutality. Hack city. Them fouls they got away with, they'd call fouls on them hits in a football game, in a lax contest. Dirty, pushy, low-down. But the intensity brings out the Wildman who gets the ole MVP of the day. Bees would take it for all those NBA treys and slashing drives to the hoop, but he's not actually one of the Kon Disch; and the Great White ain't givin no more MVP to the mercenary joiners from the Large camp.
Tomorrow: Friz Thursday.
And then, the last day, the first annual Partay Friday! Bring your duckets, y'all. $4/apiece should be proper for the final feast!
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