SCOTUS SUCKETHA TOO MUCHA
Raven Ramen To the Recuse
Hey ho, up she rises. The Rook Coffee at the Little Silver Station, New Jersey, at the head of the river the English renamed the Shrewsbury. No, Virgina, we are not buying a Mercades Benz, but we could walk from the station to purchase one.
That was yesterday, my friends, as Me and Charlie sipped cups of Ethiopean, in the Station where countless civilians had departed for secret missions for nearly a century before finally Fort Monmouth finally closing in 2011.
Raven Ramen, the Old Crow version of yes, noodles, flew out of Rook Coffee, the post Fort Monmouth era, HR conditioning program, that is a cleaner version of what the late Dave Monier had created with Eastern Innkeepers, who were in my day, the EI of the EI, EI, O after Old Macdonald’s farm moved to Ridge Road, east of the Sheep Bridge high school kids had painted for decades.
Raven Ramen, the brand that never was, except in my 2020 prednisone addled mind, is how we get to the five strategically placed noodle factories where the five never built research vessels were never berthed.
Thus we, as in I recuse ourselves from judging Martha Stewart, Charlie Kushner, or any other New Jersey convicted felon, pardoned or not. The Jersey Devil’s did their time, more than I did mine, despite having neither felony conviction or pardon.
Call this thing immunity from fortune the parent of Raven Ramin, first presented to an audience in the spring of 2000 at Spyglass Plaza, Shell Beach, California.
Ah, yes, we search for the white whale, across the seas, to fund this electionyearing prednisone free sci-fi fantasy. God bless me, already.
