Look, they have your childhood in a cup here.
When next you are in Minneapolis, on the other side of the first bridge built over the Mississippi, do yourself a favor and stop in for a cocktail. Don’t forget to tip the man who has been playing piano for longer than you’ve been alive. He will play a Getz-Gilberto number that appeals to the 103 degree temperatures you’ve endured all day, and though the twist in your gin will have far too much pith on it, what does it matter? The place has no windows, is as dark as a tomb, and smells like home.
Remember that short-lived sit-com from 1983, about Reps who were always trying to put the moves on the girls in the next office over? Starred that guy who later got caught in a San Diego hotel room scandal. Doesn’t hold up well in re-runs.
Oscar doesn’t live here anymore.
If they were your team, you’d want that divorce.
That’s ours, thanks.
