In Which I Invoke The IHoP, Oil Spill, And Brian's Proclivity For Gigantic Shirts. What Can I Say? I've Been Away A Long Time.

Brian returns from Oil Spill Ravaged Louisiana and his slide into Gigantic Shirt Territory, but there is no Fashion Redemption for The Report. (Only a Caps Lock workout, apparently.) Stubbornly, BW insists upon continuing the strenuous workout of the jet navy silk tie with the narrow carnation pink stripes. I cannot begin to tell you how I have soured on this particular cravat, one which I used to laud with praise and kudos. Now when I see it--again and again and again--my reaction is something akin to eating pancakes. Oh sure, they look wonderful at first, but once you get about a quarter of the way into that stack, the maple syrup starts to cloy your tastebuds, the doughiness of the flapjacks starts to weigh in your gut like a culinary barbell, and the mere idea of plying your fork one more time makes you want to stab the waitress.