Slaper's ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening.

A beautiful...

What happened to night?

Walking in a winter wonderland.

Merry Christmas, oh, ho, Roth and Greenwell. It's the deadland. Merry Christmas.

Oh, ho.

Oh, Roth and Greenwell.

It's a dead cast.

Merry Christmas, Drew.

Merry Christmas and happy St. Patrick's Day.

A lot of the stuff I put in your stocking is definitely spoiled and smells weird now.

I'm sorry.

By the way, I'm going to explain why I'm saying Christmas shit in March,

but St. Patrick's Day does not fall during the NCAA tournament this year,

and I feel like that's an enormous cheat to the alcoholics across the country.

No, that seems so much better as a person who wants to watch games in a bar but not ever see a St. Patrick's Day celebrator.

I don't even leave the neighborhood anymore on St. Patrick's Day. That's like the biggest

manifestation of like early onset curmudgeonhood that I have is like I'm not getting on a train

on St. Patrick's Day anymore. I won't go to Manhattan. You live in Manhattan. I can't leave.

Yeah. Okay. But yeah, but that's like we're all fogies, so we're all like, no, St. Patrick's but if you're 20, if you're like, oh, I can't wait. I can't wait to just drink horrible, horrible green beer and then throw up into my own boot. Yeah, that's the, I mean, my neighborhood, for whatever reason, has a lot of, like, firemen in uniform partying at bars.

So, like, you see the kids in the morning. And that's, like, you know, there's always going to be some part of me that has, like, a soft spot for that type of dirtbaggery where I'm like, not only are you cutting school, like, you're stealing your parents' booze at the same time. like all I can do is tip my cap, you know, like I...

...