Bobby. “Hey. Have, uh, you met Woody Harrelson?” Hey, Woody. How are you? “I’m just here to talk about Rampart.” Great. Bob? “Yeah?” Weren’t you just wearing shoes? “My body rejected them.” Sure. “Like a baboon liver” Gotcha. “Knees swole up, eyes started watering, armpits got confused.” Sounds bad. “Luckily, my wife–” Natasha Monster. “–always … Continue reading New, New Minglewoody Blues