Here at the End of All Things

I’ve pondered this entry for a while now. Thought about recapping my favorite Cokesbury Party Blog moments. Holding a contest to see which book to roast here next. But, like Plankton from SpongeBob Square Pants, I’m facing reality:

I am small.

The blog will take a hiatus after this post. I may indeed find a new book to skewer, but whether it’s continued as part of the Cokesbury Party Blog or not, I have no idea. That would require some retooling. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Here’s another bridge: Nobody comes here. Nobody cares. In nearly a year of busting my brains out on this blog, not a single comment.

But I’m not bitter.

I had fun.

So here at the end of all things, let me end, finally, with this:

One Hundred Posts

For those of you familiar with my writing style, it should come as no surprise that I've been able to stretch out a 52-party book into more than 100 posts -- this is Post 101, by the way. Yes, I do tend to babble. But that's why the Internet is such a healthy outlet. It lets me babble and prattle and then, when it comes to my "serious" writing projects, I've got a lot of the bad writing out of my system. Not all the bad writing, mind you. But some. Enough, I hope, to make a difference.

Ten Parties Left

It's been a long, odd year here at the Cokesburty Party Blog. Well, almost. But toward the end of May is when we'll celebrate together the passing of a year and, very likely the passing of this blog. I'm running out of parties from the Cokesbury Party Book.

I know, I know. It's a shame. Why couldn't this book be twice as long? Well, maybe it's a good thing it's not. But I'm sure I can find another book to skewer for another year. I've already got a few candidates waiting on the bookshelf, including a girls' camping book my wife inherited from her grandmother. I believe it was published at about the same time as the Cokesbury Party Book, so it ought to be good for something.

Will I rename the blog if I move on to a different book? I don't know. I've spent literally tens of hours over the past year building the Cokesbury Party Blog brand, familiar now to dozens of the most discerning readers on the World Wide Web, especially you folks from Belgium and Florida. I have no idea why the Belgians keep coming. Gasparilla might be why I get many hits from Florida.

So stay tuned. Something magical may happen when that last party goes up. Then again, maybe not. But I've had fun. That's what counts.

You know, this kind of reminds me of listening to the student-run radio station at the University of Idaho when I was there working on the paper. One evening while a few of us were working late, we had the radio tuned to good ol' KUOI. The DJs were holding a contest, inviting people to call in to win tickets. NO ONE CALLED. They kept asking, "Come on, somebody call! Somebody call! Is anyone listening?" Nobody ever called. Not even their compatriots from the newspaper. Well, they were tickets to a rotten concert.

No Hiatus for You!

Because of the sour economy, we here at Cokesbury Party Blog International Headquarters are working for extra-free over the holiday period in order to keep the bosses happy and all those eyeballs rolling. Rolling in, I mean. Because blogs, you know, depend on eyeballs for whatever revenue we . . .

Let's face it. Nobody comes here, except a few random people from, inexplicably, Belgium, according to our Google Analytics. So in 2010, don't be surprised if you find a more Belgium-slanted feel here at the blog, with more Walloon in-jokes and references to Tintin.

But back to the original intent of this post: A party! We're not taking a hiatus, according to our Soup Nazi boss, so in a few days expect to revel in a School Days Party, just in time to send your own rugrats back to the No Child Left Behind factory.

Week Thirty-Two: Hobo Party

Only 900 Miles to Go

So, let’s get right down to it, given the introductory stuff is out of the way:

A Hobo Party we’re having

Next Friday night at eight;

Come dressed like a vagabond

And bring along your “date.”

I have to agree that this is one of the snappiest invitations Cokesbury has come up with in nine months of trying. Short, sweet and to the point.

Decorations for the party, however, are pretty elaborate:

The social room or recreation room might be arranged to resemble the interior of a freight car. Sacks of straw or sand, old boxes and barrels, broken-down chairs and planks could be substituted for regular seats. Placards reading “No Loafing,” “No Tramps Allowed,” and “No Smoking” would also create the desired effect. If desired, an outdoor setting could be arranged for the party. Plants or green foliage brought in from the woods could be used profusely about the rooms. A camp fire, simulated by colored lights, with a battered pot or so, and from which place the refreshments might later be served, would add effective scenery.

You know, that’s putting me right in that good old Hobo spirit. Maybe a tune would help as well:



(Yes, I’ve used this song before. But this is more old-timey. And we all know we like old-timey. Be sure to consult your hobo nomenclature dictionary to identify the hobo code words used in the song.)

Best thing about the decorations? This final sentence:

The hobos should all be forced to gain admittance by a rear door.

You might also encourage come hamboning and eefing at your Hobo Party, just to add a bit of surreality to your old-timeyness.



This is old-timey for epileptics.

Costumes, of course, are encouraged, and I love how Cokesbury words their costume request:

Faded, patched, and much worn clothing, shoes and hats are certainly easily secured by all, and so everyone should make the most of the occasion to wear them.

This is from the era, of course, when nobody threw anything away, including tatty clothing.

On to the games:

Marathon Hobo Dance. On the floor draw a number of fairly large circles. (The circles should be numerous enough and large enough so that it is necessary to walk through them as the music plays.) As the piano plays a march all start marching around. The music suddenly stops, and all must stand right where they are. Those who are in a circle must drop out of the game. If either a boy or his partner are in a circle, both must drop out. The music is continued, and the marching begins again. Whenever it stops, those on circles must drop out. The couple remaining in the game the longest wins. A hamburger or hot dog sandwich might be awarded as a prize.

A hot dog sandwich. Really. Once again, Cokesbury trumps an odd game with an even odder prize. The game harks back to the hobo custom of suddenly dropping off the face of the earth due to some unforeseen, Grapes of Wrath-inspired tragedy, such as:



I know, it’s not really a Grapes of Wrath tragedy, but just try watching Steinbeck’s warped lips and visage in this “virtual movie” of the author speaking about the societal tragedies that led to some of the tragedies he wrote about in his great novel without squirming. I’d rather be a kitten in Lenny’s Of Mice and Men hands than ever watch this movie again.

Cokesbury suggests a few oddball games that really don’t match in with their hobo theme – a word-guessing game, a marble exchange, and such. No self-respecting hobo would be caught dead playing something called “Jenkins Up.” He’d be off with that handout quarter in a trice. So we move on to more hobo-appropriate games.

Hobos Seek a Hand-Out. Divide the guests into groups by counting off after the old army style, one, two, three, four, etc. Have about six players in each group. Give each group a name, such as rooster, cow, dog, or cat. Have each group choose a leader. Then tell the groups that they are to search for their food. The food might consist of animal crackers, small candy hearts, peanuts, or jelly beans, hidden about the room. At a given signal, all start hunting. No one is allowed to touch the hidden food except the leader of the group. When a member of the rooster team finds the food he must stand and crow like a rooster until his leader comes to pick it up. This rule, of course, must be observed by all the groups. The group finding the largest number should be rewarded by being allowed to eat all that the others have found also.

This game, of course, is more typical of tramps and bums, not of the noble prairie hobo, who of course would make a mulligan stew of the whole mess and invite everyone in the jungle to eat, not unlike in the tent village Steinbeck (for good hobo literature – for good literature, period – we always have to go back to Steinbeck) describes in In Dubous Battle. If you have never read the book, read it. It’ll make a communist bastard out of you.

Here’s another game:

Packing Time for the Hobos. Have everyone seated in a circle. The leader begins the game by saying, “I am going on a trip, and I am taking an umbrella.” Those in the circle do likewise, each one naming some article he is taking with him. The leader then tells what he is going to do with what he is taking, as “I am going on a trip and take my umbrella with me to keep the rain off.” Each of the players in turn must repeat the leader’s sentence, substituting his article for the word “umbrella.” Anyone who laughs while he is repeating the sentence must take the leader’s place in the center. This might go around the circle several times before it becomes tiresome. When the second round is started, the one who is leader then tells why he is taking his special article, and the others must repeat the words, with the exception that they always substitute the name of their article for the one the leader has mentioned.

This is of course the kinds of games hobos play when someone in the jungle puts a lot of spirits in the mulligan stew. And that Cokesbury doesn't mention "bindles" is a travesty to true hobos everywhere.

Only one thing to do now: Eat (except for the group that gorged during the “Hand Out” game; they’re busily puking up in the alley). Here’s the food. Any guesses?

If you guessed sandwiches and coffee, you’re right. Of course, However, Cokesbury does throw a loop:

The sandwiches should be of various sizes and shapes, and not the dainty, well-cut ones that we usually associate with party refreshments. Serve coffee in tin cups. Buns could also be used if they are served “hot dog” or “hamburger” style, and chocolate could be substituted for the coffee, if so desired. One group we know served at a Hobo Party potato salad in milk cans with cracker sandwiches. Later “Green River,” which was green punch, was served in the same can.

Hobos really do live the high life, don’t they? I’m having cracker sandwiches tonight.

Next time: We at Cokesbury Party blog International Headquarters will work double-time this week to present you with Cokesbury’s Christmas Party, after which we may be sorely tempted to take a hiatus until the New Year. We’ll see what the month presents. Thanks for tuning in.

Barf-O-Rama Warning

One of the refreshment suggestions offered by the Cokesbury party Book for its Celebrities Party got five out of five Mr. Yuk Faces from testers polled at the Cokesbury Party Blog International Headquarters, and that was just from reading the list of ingredients. There is no way in heaven we were actually going to make this refreshment item because we’re fairly sure this unholy combination of ingredients is really a method Wiccans use to summon demons. We cannot be held responsible for queasiness or any outright barfing that occurs if anyone gets sick reading the refreshment description. And if anyone actually makes this concoction and then eats it, please send us a culinary review, including a photo that clearly shows the Death X’s over your eyes. Thank you.

By the Way . . .

. . .  Just in case you're curious, with Week Twenty-Six behind us now, we are officially halfway through the "52 planned parties and 600 games and stunts" the Cokesbury Party Book promises us on its cover. And, to date, we've had just over three hundred visitors, all of whom have left the site shaking their heads and thinking, "Yeah, you can find all sorts of crap on the Internet."

You're welcome.

Week Twenty-Five: Fourth of July Party

This day and age, in some circles, patriotism is a bad word. In some ways, I have to agree. You've got to consider what one is being patriotic to. My father saw many patriotic Germans during World War II, for example, as a civilian in The Netherlands. But if we can balance patriotism with everlasting vigilance, then perhaps it's okay.

Then again, it might be more fun if we balanced patriotism with Everlasting Gobstoppers. Sometimes those who fret over what patriotism can mean in the wrong hands just ought to loosen up a bit. So on that vein, on with the John Philip Sousa and "Stars and Stripes Forever.



Let Sousa's song spool while you read, as there is no animation nor photo slide show with this piece. And don't read the comments on YouTube, either. We're strictly in the Patriotism/Everlasting Gobstopper Mode on the Cokesbury Party Blog.

Here's the invitation, which should be written on a cardboard cut in the shape of a flag, or on a bell to represent the Liberty Bell. You know. That thing in Philadelphia that rang when people didn't fret about the United States being the Evil Empire:

On the birthday of our country,

We're having a party to celebrate.

At eight o'clock on the Fourth of July,

Come to Pilcher's, and don't be late.

I have no idea who this mysterious Pilcher is, and the Internet, in its vast Sargasso sea of information, is no help. It can't possibly be Sergeant Pilcher, though the readers, author, and publisher of the Cokesbury Party Book would likely approve of his actions. So I can assume you can just substitute another last name for Pilcher in the invitation and leave it at that. Unless you want to send your guests some anti-invitations. And I love that Sgt. Pilcher's nickname is "Nobby."

Decorations for the party, or so says Cokesbury, will be "easy":

Use flags and bunting and red, while, and blue streamers for decorations. Pictures of great American characters may be hung on the walls.

It sounds easy until you consider that the likes of Homer Simpson, Peter Griffin and Courtney Love hardly count as great Americans, although Hank Hill might do in a pinch.

On to the first game:

The Names of the States. Give guests blank sheets of paper and pencils. Let couples work together. Ask them to write all the names of the states. This may look easy, but it is doubtful if any will finish the forty-eight in ten minutes. Give a prize to the one finishing first, unless the game is too long, in which case give a prize to the one having the longest list.

You read right: Forty-eight states. This is in 1932, remember. Alaska and Hawaii weren't made states until the 1950s. So fly the flag they used in A Christmas Story and see how many of your guests notice.

The next game is a good one to play with guests who arrive in full What is Patriotism umbrage, ready to do battle with anyone who dares suggest that the Fourth of July have meaning outside of Chinese fireworks and a few hamburgers burned on the grill (it should be noted that the really fierce anti-patriots won't even be thrilled about the fireworks and burgers; these are the ones you want to send to Pilcher.

The National Anthem: Do You Know It? Give to each guest the words of the "Star-Spangled Banner" written with the italicized words blank. Let them see which couple can fill the blanks correctly in the quickest time:

O! say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: 'In God is our trust.'
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

(Interesting to note: Cokesbury leaves out the third verse, and ignores completely a fifth verse added to the anthem during the Civil War. Impress your freinds by singing it in its entirety, with lyrics here.)

For amusement, be sure to videotape this game and watch the anti-patriots for signs of stroking out at certain passages, including the "In God is our trust" passage. Extra party points to you if these folks and a Barry Goldwater/Ronald Reagan Republican get in a brawl in the street after this game concludes. And once the radicals and the Commies have left, you and the rest of your guests may alter this game and do kind of a Star-Spangled Banner Mad Libs. (My favorite motto, from Ghostbusters, "We're ready to believe you!"

On to the next game:

Washington Surveying Relay. It is a well-known fact that Washington was once a surveyor. Line up the players for a relay race. They may be divided into three groups, the Reds, Whites, and Blues. This may be done by pinning on red, white, and blue ribbons, having an equal number of each. The three groups face a goal about fifteen or twenty feet away. Give to the player at the head of the line a yardstick. They are to measure the distance to the goal and back with a yardstick, laying it down and picking it up each time. The players, as soon as they have finished, give the yardstick to the next one in line and take their places at the back of the line.

An alternate version of this game is to measure the distance in smoots.

Here's another game:

Spin the Plate. Play the old game Spin the Plate in a little different way. Have one player spin the plate and call the name of a state or capital. The boy who represents the state or the girl who represents the capital must each catch the plate before it falls. If she fails to do this, she must pay a forfeit. However, let us do this in a different way. Let us have a number of forfiets written out, and as soon as she fails to catch the plate she draws out one of the forfeits and must do the stunt indicated. After she had finished her stunt, the spins the plate and calls the name of a state or capital, and the game proceeds as before. The following are some forfeits which would be suitable for this party:

• Paul Revere mounting his hores
• Benjamin Franklin flying his kite
• Washington chopping down his cherry tree
• Pocahontas saving Captain John Smith
• Patrick Henry making a speech
• Andrew Jackson fighting a duel
• Daniel Boon ekilling a bear
• Carrie Nation wrecking a saloon
• Billy Sunday preaching a sermon
• Abraham Lincoln splitting rails
• The Statue of Liberty
• Or, possibly, Sgt. Pilcher's song

 And another one, where we get to celebrate a real renegade in American history:

Fireworks: John Brown's Alive. Of course in a Fourth of July party, there must be some fireworks. Matches are used for this stunt. The leader strikes a match and gives it to a player, telling him that he has the privilege of passing it as long as it is alive, that is, as long as it is burning or is a live coal. He merely is to say "John Brown is alive" and pass it on to the next player; but if it is not alive, the next player does not have to take it.Whoever has it when it is dead must have a mustache painted on them with the burned match. Also they must start another match.

I don't get it, either. Maybe they were hard up for entertainment in the 1930s, as this video of a 1930s parade might also convey:



The next game is meant to enrage the BG/RR Republicans in the group, if any are left after the Star-Spangled Banner-inspired street brawl:

Taxation without Representation. The guests are seated in a circle. The leader tells them that she is going to organize a Revolutionary Club. In order to become a member one must be initiated. The leader says "the initiation ceremony consists in saying what I tell you and doing what I do." The leader then says, indicating one of the guests, "Say, 'Taxation without representation.'" [Editor's note: The more clever of you in the Cokesbury Party Blog world already know where this one is going.] In sayin this the leader makes some peculiar gesture with the hands, as to emphasize what she says. Usually the guest will try to imitate the gesture, when the point is to merely say "Taxation," as he has been told to say taxation without (saying) representation.

Plan on this game lasting about thirty seconds.

Now, the party is over. Cokesbury, oddly, says "it is the custom in many sections of the country" to have fireworks on the Fourth of July. Maybe there were sections where the anti-patriots without Everlasting Gobstopper vigilance were already prevalent. And, of course, one must have "eats" during the fireworks. Cokesbury recommends red, white, and blue brick ice cream, or fruit punch and cake. All of which sounds patriotic. Nah. Give me a burned burger any day.

That's it until next week and we turn on the guffaws during Stunt Night. I'm off to watch the fireworks. Oooh! Ahhhh!

We've Got the Ick

We here at the International Headquarters for the Cokesbury Party Blog are under the weather. Nothing as dangerous as H1N1, mind you, but enough to keep us out of commission for the weekend. Alas, Cokesbury's vast audience will have to wait until next week for a party. So sorry.

Lego Day -- Party is Delayed

It's Lego Day at the International Headquarters of the Cokesbury Party Blog. I might be able to do an update later tonight, but it ain't gonna happen now. Got to build a fire truck.

Hiatus Shmiatus

Our Beloved, Benevolent, Benefactor

Yes, the Summer Hiatus is over. The jerks who run Cokesbury Party Blog's international headquarters are cruel taskmasters. And the temptation with a blog is to put off for next week what could be done Monday. I want to avoid that. Back to work, getting the TPS coversheets on my reports.

Summer Hiatus

We here at the Cokesbury Party Blog officially decided that this weekend was too nice to be spent slaving away at an update. Instead, we decided to go to the beach this week. We got a leetle bit bloated from the heat. We'll have the Aircraft Party next week.

Week Seventeen: College Field Day

Come on, Fatty, We Don't Bite

Ah, to revisit the days of youre when every Man's Man and even some of the women participated in sports, wining the hearts of the community, making hell for the dorks and fat kids, assuming they were kings (and queens) of the world . . .

I'm sorry if I sound bitter. My most vivid memory of participating in a Field Day, college or otherwise, was being pulled gently away from the bleachers by a kid in my class because those on the bleachers were trying to spit on the "fat kid" below them.

So, field day. Thankfully, Cokesbury makes a hollow mockery of it all.

Let's start with the invitation:

Rah, rah, rah, rah, rah,
Fifteen rahs for college,
Fifteen rahs for fun and sport,
and forget about the knowledge.
Well, on next Friday evening, let me say,
We're having a regualr College Field Day,
and I also want to think to remark
It's going to be a sure-enough lark.

Now that the mood is set with really bad poetry and memories of fatty persecution, let's move on to the events of the day, by way of instruction:

While the contests area in progress, the other members . . . should cheer their contestants and root for them. This is an important part of the fun and should not be neglected.

Without such instruction, it's easy to imagine the rest of the group watching in stony silence as their compatriots trade blood and sweat for victory. You might want to bring cue cards.

So, here's the first event, which sets the tone for the rest of the evening:

Cross Country Run. Groups line up in paralel lines facig the leader. The leader tells them that this is the cross country run and that each one must race to a goal, about twenty-five feet in front of each line, with the legs crossed. When the first one returns, he touches off the second and takes his place at the rear of the line. The object is to see which group can finish first. Fifty points.

Cokesbury's antecedents, unclear as always, leave one to wonder: Are the goal's legs crossed, or the contestants? Just present this game as-is and cross the legs of the goal and make your guests wonder.

And pay attention to the points. They'll be critical later. Be sure to write them down.

Here's another event:

Standing Broad Grin. One is selected from each group, either man or woman. It should be announced in advance that this is the Standing Broad Grin, so that one with a large mouth will be selected. If desired, have the men contest and then the women. After they have grinned as broadly as possible the leader, using a tape measure, measures the width of the grin. The one who grins broadest winds. Give 10 points for this.

For some reason, this little girl came to mind when I read the description for this game:

If your guests area of a more timid and emotionally fragile constitution, it might be wise to begin your search for contestants by offering another descriptive phrase than "the ones with the biggest mouths." Some might take offense. Also, the germophobes in the group are going to go absolutely ape over the tape measuring part. Be sure to have lots of wipes on hand.

Here's another game, also sure to offend. Or confuse. Or cause uncomfortable out-of-closet moments.

Boxing Match. The groups line up facing the leader for instruction. The first person in the line is given a penny match box. It is better to use a wooden safety match box for this. They are told that the box must be passed down the line and back by transferring it from nose to nose without the use of the hands. Of course, if the box is dropped, it may be picked up with the hand and replaced on the nose. Use only the outer case of the box. Give 50 points to the group that finishes first.

This game presents the host a bevy of logistical challenges, only beginning with making sure that only those who wish to be outed at the party be paired together. Yes, foolish you, there are such things as penny match boxes:

They can indeed be purchased and in bulk to this day. But just how in the name of all that is holy should your guests approach transferring such a box from nose to nose? Should you select a partner with a greasier skin complexion? If you get this figured out, let me know.

Maybe it's best if we move on to another game, this one involving your favorite Cokesbury party prop: a whistle.

Relay Race: Umbrella and Bucket. Select four from each group. The first one in each group is given a folding chair, an umbrella, and a covered bucket with a whistle in it. At the sound of the whistle the contestants are to race, one at a time, to goals drawn on the floor about twenty-five feel in front of each group. They are to unfold the chair and sit in it, raise the umbrella, open the bucket and take out the whistle and blow it, put the whistle back in the bucket and close it, shut up the umbrella, fold the chair and race back and touch off the next one. The group finishing first wins 20 points.

Of all the games I've encountered in Cokesbury this year, this one actually sounds to be the most entertaining. I might even do it at a party with my friends. If I ever threw any parties. And if I had any friends.

Now, this:

High Jump. Select a lady from each group, preferably one who can sing. The one who can sing the chorus of "Old Black Joe" the highest wins 10 points for her group.

Old Black Joe. That just doesn't sound good. According to commenters on YouTube (where reason reigns supreme over raw unadulaterated emotion accented with spittle) the song is either a Stephen Fosteresque longing for good old times when one was surrounded by his or her friends of youth, or an ugly smear harking back to the good ol' days when slavery was the norm. I just know it's really trippy to hear the Von Trapp Family Singers belting it out:



Let's have another game. And as a bonus, it also involves your whistle:

Whistle. One is selected from each group, Each is given a cracker. He is told that he must eat the cracker and whistle "Yankee Doodle" or "Dixie." The one who first successfully whistles the tune wins. Give 10 points for this.

Yeah, a game that involves crackers and the tune "Dixie" will certainly take the curse off that last game. Better move on quickly before the liberals descend en masse and surround Cokesbury Party Blog International Headquarters with a seething angry mob.

It's awards time, thankfully. Tote up the number of points, subtract a few from the group that seemed to enjoy "Old Black Joe" or "Dixie" too much, then award the winningest team a "loving cup" made of two tin funnels, spouts joined, together. "Have other equally foolish and inexpensive prizes for the events," Cokesbury says. I'd not suggest anything made of cotton.

Now it's time for refreshments: popcorn balls, Cracker Jacks, soda pop, and hot dogs. There's that "cracker" word again. I'm leaving now.

But only until next week when we get, thrill of thrills *blogger turns the page in the Cokesbury Party Book* an Aircraft Party. That sounds to be racially and politically correct. Aviators and aviatrixes, tune in next week.

Delays, Delays . . .

Once again, Cokesbury Party Blog International Headquarters is in a complete state of disarray. It, fortunately, has nothing to do with recent celebrity deaths, but more to the fact that International Headquarters is still displaced by remodeling. Carpet-layers are coming tomorrow, however, and that signals the end of the remodeling project. We should be back in full operation by next weekend. We'll see you on or after the Fourth of July.

Pardon our *Cough* Dust

I know there are millions of Cokesbury Party Blog fans out there on tenterhooks (they used to be available at those five-and-dime stores Cokesbury recalls with fondness) for the next party update. It may happen today, and then again it may not. I apologize for the confusion. The problem is Cokesbury Party Blog International Headquarters is being remodeled, and we might have to shut everything down this afternoon to move out so the carpet-layers can come. I will do my darndest, however, to get the update done tonight. Unless the four-year-old asserts his computer demands.