6 hard-chargers sallied out on D-Day in picture-perfect gloom (by YHC's definition… not Canuck's) for some streetlight boogey'ing.
Bel-Air was early, but not earlier than YHC. He continues his streak of clobbering workouts.
Topgun stated that he was feeliing chubby and lazy, and thus needed a rare Monday beatdown. Welcome to the Berean, where the deck is always green.
Canuck made his customary, magi-esque astronomical observations, and filled us in on his golf outing.
Caesar's middle school PE teacher remains correct… his legs are longer than his arms.
We, unfortunately, cannot unsee Blackbeard's ostentations display from CoT.
Speaking of Blackbeard, when it was time for Monday Morning Quarterbacking, he simply gazed off at some rafters, while the others made decent reports.
Obviously the Barista is under the influence of Top Gun: Maverick frenzy. She came out to the veranda to check on our resident flyboy's coffee, while she utterly ignored the rest of the wardroom.
For some reason we had uncontrolled laughter at the mere suggestion that we might be smashed to smithereens by a garbage truck. Weird.
Conversation about the best personalized license plate. And other stuff too.
Ended CoT with some thoughts about what those young men faced 78 years ago this morning when the ramp went down on those landing craft. It boggles the mind what they did. Look at the pics and meditate on that today. We stand on the shoulders of giants.
GG sends.