And now in the realm of completely inexplicable things, there’s been this strange phenomenon at “Work”, as opposed to “The Library”, “The Marriage Counseling Center”, or “Church.” (Ed.: If you don’t what the fuck I just said, ask Moose.) Anyway, one day I’m sitting at the The Rail, and River Rat yanks out this gigantic bottle of Hawaiian Punch from the cooler. I don’t think I’ve seen that shit since I was 12. Or 38. Who knows. So I ask, “what the fuck?” River Rat proceeds to explain that someone brought in a whole bunch of Hawaiian Punch. It might have been Tumbleweed, I don’t recall.

“What do you mean a whole bunch?”

“I mean a whole bunch.”

To wit:

Note Big Black looking on in curiosity. And what the hell is that middle one. Hawaiian Punch Light!? Seriously? Sure — instead of feeding your kids scoopfuls of sugar, let’s just pump them up with artificial chemicals instead.

“Here”, River Rat says, as he polishes off a pony of punch …

“Yah know, River Rat … that would make an excellent hat.”

“Indeed it would, Steakhouse, indeed it would.”

And there you have it. Is there nothing The Rail can’t do?

And speaking of Roman Helmets …

Here’s Forty looking tough and manly, until you realize he’s wearing a Roman Helmet. What’s a Roman Helmet, you say? Well, let’s let Urban Dictionary do the talking. Needless to say, when this new definition was discovered, The Rail turned into a bunch of little schoolgirls giggling and tittering about. Yeah — we’re a veritable 3rd grade class of scholars. Coulter even wrote a column about it. Sort of.

Go Sox! (The white ones.)

Only 42 days til opening day, and here we see Baltimore ready and waiting in his White Sox hat, on top of his Hamm’s Hat hat. This Joyce is pumped! But he’s not to be confused with being a member of the completely, perpetually, and utterly shit-faced venerable “Joyce Brothers”, although they do have some similar talents. I think at last count there are sixteen or seventeen Joyce brothers — Baltimore is not one of them. In fact, when he gets asked if he’s one of the Joyce brothers, he slowly lowers and shakes his head, heaves a big sigh, and says, “no …”

And don’t forget: the frat formal is tomorrow night starting at 8:00p at The Rail. Dress to the nines, bring your wife, and get your drink on!



Freshly off of the train known as Amtrak, we see here the adorably cute Kate who walks into the bar, calmly orders a cool refreshing cylindrical can of Hamm’s, and guess what: HAMM’S HAT, baby … It’s a beautiful thing. She was a little unsure about the hat construction technique, so yours truly stepped in and gave her the classic Hamm’s Hat look. Admittedly it’s still harder with 30-packs than 24s. Can we please go back to 24s!?!? No? Fine.

Let’s watch:

And here she is stumbling about because she can’t see …

Oh, here I am !!

And we have another victorious soldier in the annals of Hamm’s-Hat-ness. God Bless ‘Merica.