Codename: Jackass

I've had 96oz. water. I'm working on 60oz. beer.

WOW DEAD THREAD nd Dechutes Fresh Squeezed

I'm skeptical that you will, but intrigued that you may.

I plan to leverage my deep, booming baritone into a voice-over career. Watch out, Ving Rhames. I'm the next Arby's "We Have the Meats" voice guy.

If you haven't consumed at least 96 fluid ounces of pure H2O by 6:00 AM Central Standard Time, I will find you.

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It makes me feel pity for them, and then pity for myself.

I haven't used a VHS tape in nearly a decade.

Market correction.

There were some black cowboys roaming the wild west back in the day. On one particular day, one of these cowboys rolled into a little backwater town in Nevada. The white townsfolk, unused to seeing people with dark skin, met him with suspicion and distrust. Parched from his long trekthough the desert, he stopped at a local saloon for a drink. When he made his way to the counter, spurs jingling as he walked, a hush fell over the bar as they noticed their new guest. "Barkeep!" he said, laying a silver nickel down on the bar. "A beer, please." The bar man eyed him with suspicion, but took his order in silence. Some poker players gathered around the corner table walked up, and Salty Sam, their leader, spoke up. Though his mustache, he said "We don't take kindly to y'all comin' 'round these parts. We think it might be best if ya mosey on out." Our cowboy finished his drink and asked Salty Sam "You a card player? A good one?" "The best in a hundred miles!" Sam exclaimed, puffing his chest out in pride." The nameless cowboy said "I have a bet for you. We'll play some cards, but it's a new card game I learned from a Chinaman. You win and you'll never see me around here again. I win, and you pay my rent for a room in the best hotel in town." Sam's eyes narrowed as he decided whether to take him up on his bet, but, being the best card player west of the Rockies, he took the bet. They set up at the table and the cowboy explained the rules. Aces were 1 or 11, don't go over 21, draw two cards, one face up and one face down. It was simple enough. Sam loved a good bluffing game. There was no money involved, just pride. They went back and forth, playing until the first man reached 21 hands won. Sam was surprised by how good his opponent was, but our cowboy was cool and unflinching, win or lose. The final hand came. They were tied even at 20 wins apiece. The whole bar had gathered to watch the two play. Sam had a queen of diamonds showing, the drifter an ace of spades. "I'll stand," the drifter said, lifting his hole card to see what was beneath. Sam watched him closely, looking for any tells, but this guy was one cool customer. Sam, looking at his hole card, said "I'll stand." He smiled. "Well, pardner, time to show down," he said, revealing a king of hearts. He had 20. The drifter smiled wryly, amused at the result. He turned up his hole card. A jack of clubs. 21. Salty Sam was stunned. Our drifter stood and put on his hat. "It was a good game," he said. "I've got to get along now. I was just passin' through anyway." As he strolled out to the street, Salty Sam cried "Wait there, pardner. I never did get your name." The drifter turned and cocked his hat. "The name's Jack," he said. Salty Sam and the rest of the town never forgot the story of Black Jack.

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That was Dylan's customary one glass of water before a nice long bender/writing binge. Do not go gentle into that good night, Bouvre.

You are a dry boy. Dryboi

Lock him in a closet.

I'm ashamed of my body so I wear clothes so I'm not reminded of it.

Drybois 2018

U sweatin and workin?

Good

whoa there You better slow down with the water consumption, water poisoning is in your future if you don't turn back now.

I hate that shrunken brain sensation when I haven't had enough to drink.

You're gonna need an IV with fluid.

Good

I trust you feel the thirst.