Labor Day in the Commonwealth

As the swallows return to Capistrano, as a dog returneth to it's vomit, so to shall the students return unto Boston.
For some, it signals the end of Summer, for others the very death of Hope itself....still others see it as the quiet expiration of easy-assed parking on Newbury Street.
It is none of those things to Humble John...I have risen above the seasonal angst in the Hub.
I've got a gold body the very pre-penultimate Buddha....jolly of tummy and am long of lobe.
My eyebrows are getting grey and bushy, eloquent of wisdom and magic in the vasty reaches beyond Wake Island.
How did I come by this Godhead so suddenly?
Easy, I found legit parking in Allston Brighton on Sunday AND Monday afternoon.
I then preached to the Doctors in the Temple, healed some beggars afflicted with boils, and took a stroll atop the waters of the Charles.
When you get one miracle going the rest simply fall in line effortlessly.
:)
I was out and about an errand unrelated to this blog's mandate....perhaps the most memorable sight was a pair of yappy undergraduate co-eds exiting the packie laboring under a box loaded with expensive hard liquor....if I was but twenty years younger I might've tried to follow them back to their nest...
But "forty one IS forty one" to quote Bonaparte.
Nowadays I merely the note the phat cashola you could make selling denim miniskirts to the right cohort.
Nope it's labor day in Boston, Humble John switches from cheap gin and tonics to that soulful winterizing libation, Jack Daniels on the rocks.
Let the snow and winds blow high.