"Tinseth- I was walking past the Philadelphia Union League and thought of a story line. Park Ranger, assigned to kiosk in a historical re-enactment of Ben Franklin’s niece’s haberdashery and snuff shop, is actually the Forty Third Earl of Crosse and Blackwell.
But he’s trapped in the states, virtually penniless, due to gambling debts and the machinations of slick lawyers with truncated eastern European names. He is torn between his contempt for the general public and his love of the only uniform he can wear in public without being laughed at... too much." M. Walsh of Chicago
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5 comments:
LSD in this marmalade?
--Matthew
I've had similar fantasies, except in mine I'm Mamie Eisenhower and I'm trapped in the Lincoln bedroom while the Dulles brothers play Rock Paper Scissors.
Wait, who doesn't laugh at park rangers and re-enactors? I think the most respect a park ranger gets is when someone says, "no sir, that is not my fishing pole."
Does Brohammas know you have his shoes?
oh shit...
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