Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.
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Monday, April 21, 2008
Viva Papa
Some will remember three years ago, that on the day of and for quite a little bit after, I went on a big ol' Ratzi festival.
At that time, I remember suggesting that one could do worse than bend the elbow to the man who was now sitting on Peter's throne.
You can call it various things, "Panzer Pabst", "The Rottweiler", the Hardliner" or "Ratzi's Revenge".
Take a pint of Bavarian beer and a shotglass of Benedictine Liqueur. Sink the shotglass into the beer.
Yell, "Viva Papa" really loud, and chug it back.
[Sorry I didn't do any Ratzi stuff on the day. I was terribly busy. I was sanding my bathroom floor and getting the very attractive brown clods of dust out of my lungs afterward.
...
And that's five minutes in the box for sharing too much...]
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