Yeah, I know Harvey said he’s “on vacation” but you don’t believe that any more than I do.
We’ve called around different places and we can’t find Harvey anywhere. I called Disney World — (407) 939-5277 — and they said he wasn’t there.
I called the White House — (202) 456-1414 — and he’s not been there.
I even called the Walmart store across from the mall in Savannah — (912) 344-9664 — and he wasn’t there either.
I’m out of places to call. So, you got any ideas?
I’m betting he’s trying to find the Hildebeast’s woodland retreat where she sequestered herself after the election. You never know what you might find in there; homebrew servers, lost billing records, prepared texts for her next round of paid speechifying, Jimmy Hoffa, Vlad’s cell number…..
Meeting with Elon Musk. Wonder what that could be about…
My guess is that he’s in hiding, while preparing to nuke the moon.
In his volcano island lair plotting world domination.
Or possibly at Dollywood eating a funnel cake..
Call New Hampshire. He’s rebelling.
I called (603) 271-2121. Some guy named Chris got on the line and wouldn’t shut up. Kept talking about highways. And rugby, for some reason. Go figure. Anyway, if Harvey’s there, I feel sorry for him.
Have you ever driven NH’s highways? He might be lost. It’s one of several states that require maps to get around. A “rat’s nest of tangled roads” (former horse paths) would best describe it.
Looking for FrankJ, Mr. Right, SpaceMonkey, and RightWing Duck.
The local Hooters?
I think I’ve told this before, but here goes anyway. Years ago, after taking my son and a nephew to a Braves game, we got to Columbus (where I was living at the time) around supper. I asked them where they wanted to go to eat.
About that time, we came across a billboard for the (at the time) new Hooters in Columbus. I heard the two cousins whispering and giggling. Finally, my nephew (the older of the two) said “We want to go to Hooters.” They were surprised when I took the exit and pulled into the parking lot.
The next day, after taking my nephew home, my sister (the Mean One) asked, “Anything happen?” My nephew immediately said “He (meaning me) took us to Hooters!”
“Oh?” my sister said, eyeing me with That Look. “How was it?”
My nephew responded, “I liked the wings. I think he (meaning me) liked the legs and the breasts.”
Your nephew is my kind of boy.
…eating shad?
He’s out somewhere banging on a wall. (Look, I know it’s a terrible pun, but it’s the best I could do on short notice.)
The annual Pooka convention.
He and the missus are touring all the viewable battleships and submarines in alphabetical order (Alabama, Cod, …Wisconsin?).
Found him:
By Source, Fair use, Link
The gun range. Of course, that doesn’t narrow it down, because he identifies the world as his gun range.
Takin’ a nap on his sanctuary settee.
Surprise! He is really Neil Gorsuch, and You Have All Been Judged!*
*(Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. With Mr. Wesson.)
Wait. Here he is
Basil: . . . that email that said he’s “on vacation” . . . came from inside your house!
Beard Camp.
Shaved off his beard and got five-o’clock-shadow-banned.
Then, clearly, Oppo, Basil is either guilty of mutiny or he got hacked by the Russians.
Mar-a-Logo, counselling the President on NK targets…..
Not under my back porch…I swear!
Dunno. He’s one of those scanty Navy-ans.
1) Phone is off the hook.
2) Computer is unplugged.
3) Howard the Duck on repeat.
{Wednesday morning:} Ah, now it becomes clear: he took time off to post as Frank.
He’s celebrating the Halifax Resolves.
Here he is: https://www.dropbox.com/s/g9v9od52m3ewgrq/HarveyWH.png?dl=0