There has been a lot of activity on the campaign trail, as of late. There was a band of Jimmy Olson-bots that had to be done in by Zaius and, in the most unlikely of twists of fate, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator. Jon saved my running mate from a dreadful fate, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Dr. Zaius gave Jon the passcode to the rumpus room and those boys showed up looking for Mai Tai's but found my Basil Hayden's sipping bourbon and proceeded to play Mexican for most of the night. I'm glad y'all kissed and made up but I'd sure like to know which one of you stunk the place up with clove cigarettes.
While the boys' visit was entirely unexpected, it is for times like these that I keep the houseband in a small casita out back near the pool. They worked up this little number. I like the last minute addition of the robot, maybe not high production values but I don't think an intergalactic gladiator puking good bourbon on my white flokati rugs should be too picky. Just sayin'.
Oh, and for my dear friend, Dr. Zaius, I bought this:
What, Zaius hates bowties? But this one looks so....presidential. Looks like now I've got to pout.