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Too Late, Trotsky is part blog, part journal, and completely pointless.Following
So my parents and I decided to buy tickets for the Big East men’s tournament and go into New York City for the day.
My dad just told us a story as we’re sitting in New Haven traffic on our way to the train station:
“I was listening to sports radio last night at work, and they said that yesterday was the 40th anniversary of the Joe Frazier / Muhammad Ali fight at Madison Square Garden,” he said.
“You want to know why I thought it was a great idea to go to the city today? Because the day after that fight my mother took me to the city. I remember that because on the way back, my mom let me buy a Sports Illustrated to read on the train, and on the cover was Joe Frazier knocking out Muhammad Ali.”
“Was this the time you got the turtle?” Mom asked.
“No. That was when I was like, four years old,” Dad continued. “But it wasn’t like it was tomorrow or two days from now, it was 40 years ago today that I was in New York.”
“Weird, right?”
My parents adopted a dog over the summer. Now, here’s a picture of Crockett.

This is Crockett.
Cute, right? Yeah, he’s about three times the size of this adorable little puppy in this photo now. In layman’s terms, he’s fucking huge.
Crockett is a Catahoula Leopard Dog. These dogs are bred in Catahoula County, Louisiana for boar hunting and such.
Now, this particular dog is nuts. He chews everything. The molting on the wall, shoes, fences - anything he can find, basically.
I just received a text from my father:
“Mom and I want to go on a trip to Louisiana to find Catahoula County. We figure we drive around until we find a place where everything is chewed within an inch of its life or utterly torn apart and then we’ll know we’re there.”
This pretty much sums that up.