
Originally Posted by
zaGaffer
There was a great man once, a true champeen of South Jersey. I am a scion of Camden County, my paternal family seats are Cherryhill and Mooresto'n and I draw my lineage there back unto the troubles of the 17th. When being a Quaker meant having one's nose and ears shorn then branded with the Q upon thy cheek. We escaped the round hats and sought a better more peaceful existence, HA! My father was wise and married a Southern belle and got the foch out of Jersey, I still think of it fondly, in the fall when the leaves whither and die in the South instead of turning beautiful; of the ancient, crumbling 300+ year old houses my cousins dwell in. No, I speak not of James J. Braddock. Not the Cinderella Man nor even Silent Cal. The man I speak of was South Jetty Bill. The greatest man to never espouse the philosophy of GTL (one which I adhere to, sans the tanning, I get enough sun). May his Atlantic City barrels be many, may he find Trump's hair piece and a shreddin' chick, may his name ring in the ears of all those who hounded him from this board and may Bogeton Wolftucks never cross his shadow. May the Great Brain or possibly Encyclopedia Brown find whatever it is Bill is lookin' for, as long as it's not in Utah. I hope that like Bilbo and Frodo, that rather West he has gone East and found his Reykjavikian Elves.
You sir are an instigator. I must now go put gel in my hair, smoke my Tolkein, kick back my GnT and prepare for a moon-lit sesh