The day after Date Night
When I was looking for something to wear for Date Night yesterday, I came across my old psychedelic hippy shirt. It’s beautiful. But I can’t button it any longer. Back in 1970 I weighed in at 140 pounds. It’s beautiful:
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It is beautiful!
Greetings Bud.. Love the shirt and the fact that you are still alive and kicking.
I just came out of the ladies room. I’m not shitting. I just read the Octopus Surprise strip, again. Its Hilarious. Another Jewel that almost made me forget to wipe, was your response to a “Fan” Who wrote. “I’m a black (sry I’m Norwegian) homosexual, paralyzed Man with Polish mother and German father and we all “confess” to Judaism. I don’t think there’s anything you can write or draw that can offend me. Feel free to try anyway.” You got a Big Nose too. A reply I’m sure he gave a standing ovation. I just had an inkling to look you up Bud, just to tell you that I love you and thank YOU for the countless times you’ve made my legs go numb, gazing down on your brilliant work of art. Please come to Norway and I’ll pack an arena full of Elvis’s in your honour. Best wishes Mr.Grace
Thanks for the kind words. It’s been quite a few years since I had the pleasure of visiting your home. I have some very dear friends in Norway. Once they made me eat a Smalahove. You do that to foreigners for fun, don’t you?
I think you could repurpose it as a pocket square, headband and ascot.
I’ll bet you were the life of the party with this beautiful shirt. I went with day-glo Hawaiian shirts, once I got over my shyness.
Actually, I didn’t need that shirt to party down. People used to think that I was a little nutz. Some still do.