The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

SILVER BROWN: The Final Chapters

Chapters Seventeen and Eighteen will soon be presented to the good people of Planet Earth on Twitter. A new page every day, as usual. I usually start doing this sort of thing on the seventh day of a given month (i.e. today), but this time I’m reluctant to start doing that while the Stanley Cup playoffs are still on.

Ovi knows that feeling. Maybe not so much this year, but he knows that feeling.

The aforementioned sporting tournament is typically over long before the solstice, but this is hardly a typical year. So I tweaked the scheduling accordingly. The tweetment of these pages shall commence the morning after Lord Stanley’s Mug is hoisted. Which could be as soon as tonight*, for all I know.

* My apologies to any diehard Habs fans reading this, but your guys are as good as toast. They’ve clearly met their match with the Bolts’ powerful blue line. Tampa could replace Vasilevskiy with a three-toed sloth and there wouldn’t be any noticeable improvement to your shots on goal.

Once I run out of pages to tweet, SILVER BROWN shall be officially retired as a literary project. This site will then go through a molting phase of its life cycle. I know not what will eventually hatch out of the cocoon, but not knowing is half the fun.


The Zen of SILVER BROWN

Happy Birthday To Me

Hey, it’s my birthday today. Probably not going to paint the town red tonight, though. Getting too old for that shit. Once you reach a certain age, you’ve been there and done that. I didn’t even go out to party when the Raptors won the big championship this year. My roomies did that, but not I. Being the old geezer of the household, I was content to stay home, watching the game on my trusty laptop Black Betty, ingesting no mood-altering substance aside from a few celebratory tokes. I’ve raised my share of hell, and large-scale sports-related pandemonium is something I’ve already seen up close. I was at the party depicted in the following video, although whoever shot this footage somehow didn’t bother to film the drunks climbing on top on the streetcars.