Sometimes campers, we are encouraged to acknowledge tremendous performance it the competitive athletic universe. At this time, Jackshit in St. Paul must simply share that what Percy Harvin puts out on the field can only reflect the possession of a mighty large set of testicles. Men with smaller stones may have talent, perhaps terrific skill. This man I speak of performs and the performance is what distinguishes him from the masses. He plays with qualities endeared to a that rare athlete who moves with little regard for danger or consequence.

In all reality campers he is exactly what those of in St. Paul what so much for Joe Mauer to be. Without question Percy Harvin is an alpha, the dog who eats first at the table. The inferiority complex of this town begs to cleanup the scraps beneath Mr. Harvin’s dinner table. Especially if he’ll scratch us behind the ears when we lick his feet.

I find myself in a troubling state on this late summer morning reminiscing about earlier encounters of this summer. So we tremble back in time to when it was fashionable to care and present things in a manor of which both disturbed and discerning to parties present.

Finding myself on the perimeter of the friendly confines consecutive evening I unavoidable consumed some of mr springsteen’s jams during the warmup stages of both evenings.

Fighting despair and depression due to Bucky’s utter ineptitude this afternoon events led me to party of political expression. Shortly after arrival I began espousing the limited expressions of a wild bill, sharing with fellow guests the ghastly thought that the ballot box is a capitalist concession.

Tullamore Dew made its first appearance since July yet the results were remarkably consistent.

Hello campers! And I welcome you from the many realms and distinct companies from our global awareness. These brief summer awakenings have alerted me to another tempo. Its terrific to march again, and to have a rhythm to bang against that which tells us why we crave that friction. There’s a time crunch and every minute counts again. So delicate in the balance of pettiness, trivial mannerisms.

So now is a time of great delight, when fantasies can be indulged.

Midnight moon is tempted by whispers from the crickets of summers last run.

It was a time of transition when the thought occurred. The Queen shall have her throne. Was she destined? Was she tried and deserved? Well, that is for a true camper to determine.

The eclipse of these late summers eve deserve fair warning.

Acquired as much, to deserving a real swath of attention; our Queen swaggers towards redemption. Easing out of her timid position she initiates with fortuitous ease. Well this collection of provincials, trumping their castles; ah what a new bird in town is to see from above. What targets present and what friendlies deliver?

Oh what these kamradkas inspire? Just to quench at the thirst, lets do a church

with a burst

maybe go old school first?

A collection of conspires met beside an old fire. Deliberate as they desire.

I do like scrambled eggs. Much greater upside with the omelet ascending to levels beyond. However the fried egg is what’s sitting on my plate morning after morning campers. What I’ve got to do is crack an egg and flip it. It doesn’t get much easier than that. I’m not chasing the scrambled eggs let alone an omelet out here in San Diego. I let it easy. I’m doing fried eggs in Ocean Beach.

I do believe campers that this heat wave is no coincidence. Jackshit senses St. Paul has earned God’s wrath. Take a look around at your fellow sinners and bow your head to our humble lord. Please attend a service and check your personal commitment to your faith. For further clarity, attempt the following measures to obtain purity.
Begin with a cold shower. Be sure to expose the genitals to frigid temperatures but not necessarily in a direct line of fire from the shower head. Dress semi-casual, respect the heat but do not allow it to overpower your wardrobe selection. Refrain from socks and sandals especially of the sport variety. Choose footwear that speaks without shouting.
If such measures have set you in the proper mood partake in an early beverage. Of late, Jackshit prefers the clean taste of PBR. You’ll find this to be of reasonable quality. Now Jesus will love you and enjoy!

Take a swift look around and confirm your strongest suspicions, there’s jackshit in St. Paul. Its July, its uncomfortably numb, and I’d like to thank everyone for running that holding pattern while things got settled around here. No fear, jackshit is on the verge of some harebrain adventure to relieve the syndrome known as- jackshit is going on in St. Paul. Yes, the Referent is still the source, but we’ve got to venture beyond our comfort zone. So away we go- beyond what is normal and acceptable, pushing the limits. Yes you can!