This weekend I was in the lawless city of New Orleans for our league’s annual draft party.
Three league members have a pregnant wife, two already own a child, all eleven besides me are practicing attorneys, and at least one plans on running for political office. It’s therefore with tremendous discretion that I simply say it was a gentlemanly time, include an artful image in lieu of a cellphone pic, and return to writing about cats.
I find it creepy that the photo looks eerily similar to the print hanging in my hotel room. I will say that the trip was a success. No one got arrested. No one died. And I remember very little of anything--including the players I drafted for my team.
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