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GFOP Dan Caplan sent this. Your explanations appreciated.
Roger and Dave,
Lathering up today with my new shower curtain world map I couldn’t help notice the curious inclusion (and exclusion) of UK cities. Along with London, how did no other city get mapped besides Sunderland??  Is this DiCanio’s doing? The begining stages of some nefarious plot to spread his global and political agenda, one shower curtain at a time? I can picture his explanation clearly: 

“Before DiCanio, along with only London, many pointless cities in UK. After DiCanio, only Sunderland. Please shower daily.”

I do fear where this goes next.

GFOP,
Daniel Caplan
Portland, OR

GFOP Dan Caplan sent this. Your explanations appreciated.

Roger and Dave,

Lathering up today with my new shower curtain world map I couldn’t help notice the curious inclusion (and exclusion) of UK cities. Along with London, how did no other city get mapped besides Sunderland??  Is this DiCanio’s doing? The begining stages of some nefarious plot to spread his global and political agenda, one shower curtain at a time? I can picture his explanation clearly: 
“Before DiCanio, along with only London, many pointless cities in UK. After DiCanio, only Sunderland. Please shower daily.”
I do fear where this goes next.
GFOP,
Daniel Caplan
Portland, OR
We knew all about Alexi Lalas’ fine album “Ginger” but this is a piece of Smithsonian worthy football memorabilia via GFOP Ben Kulo, who writes, “I’ve got a trove of Lalas memorabilia.  As my bro was buddies with him in college and it was already clear he was going to be a legend.  I found this cover art from his first studio album (I believe I’ve got the actual cd in another box somewhere) and I thought you guys might be interested.”
Interested. Damn straight. For us, this is like finding the Ten Commandments somewhere in Sinai.
 
We knew all about Alexi Lalas’ fine album “Ginger” but this is a piece of Smithsonian worthy football memorabilia via GFOP Ben Kulo, who writes, “I’ve got a trove of Lalas memorabilia.  As my bro was buddies with him in college and it was already clear he was going to be a legend.  I found this cover art from his first studio album (I believe I’ve got the actual cd in another box somewhere) and I thought you guys might be interested.”

Interested. Damn straight. For us, this is like finding the Ten Commandments somewhere in Sinai.

 

From GFOP Joe Thesing, a photo that makes us realize that children are the future:My 12 year old WAR PIG preparing for his Sunday Futbol match, just in case he scores. And from GFOP Jeff Bozeman, an epic ballad named “The Warpig’s Lament.”



The Warpig’s Lament


Along the muddied trench,
Among the injured and the dead,
The Warpig trots.

The sky above shudders and splits.
The Enemy’s artillery does its worst,
But the Warpig does not cower.

Fresh from battle, his chops are
Torn and bloody. His eyes hold the sting of
That hazardous mustard vapour and
Every snort yields a new manner of pain.
Yet these injuries are dull and distant,
Like flames seen through a fog,

For the Warpig is home.
His beloved by his flank, the little ones
Squealing at his hooves.
There is fresh slop in the tough, and
Cool mud covers the sty floor.
Here he is simply - pig.

The air cracks and a great red fire fills his vision.
He is whole, but dislodged from sweet memory.

The Warpig speaks, to no one:
“Bella, horrida bella.”

From GFOP Joe Thesing, a photo that makes us realize that children are the future:
My 12 year old WAR PIG preparing for his Sunday Futbol match, just in case he scores. 

And from GFOP Jeff Bozeman, an epic ballad named “The Warpig’s Lament.”

The Warpig’s Lament

Along the muddied trench,
Among the injured and the dead,
The Warpig trots.

The sky above shudders and splits.
The Enemy’s artillery does its worst,
But the Warpig does not cower.

Fresh from battle, his chops are
Torn and bloody. His eyes hold the sting of
That hazardous mustard vapour and
Every snort yields a new manner of pain.
Yet these injuries are dull and distant,
Like flames seen through a fog,

For the Warpig is home.
His beloved by his flank, the little ones
Squealing at his hooves.
There is fresh slop in the tough, and
Cool mud covers the sty floor.
Here he is simply - pig.

The air cracks and a great red fire fills his vision.
He is whole, but dislodged from sweet memory.

The Warpig speaks, to no one:
“Bella, horrida bella.”