Reply #95: Well, don't mean to brag...

[Crankie Avalon]

...but as far dressing goes, I do it all myself, jest like I do all my own aircraft flyerin' (maybe a secret service feller'll help me with my necktie if I'm in no condition to make a good knot, but that's about it).

Now, who picks out what I wear is another thing entirely. As we say in Texas, "Clothes make the messiah," so I have a staff o' five young fellers on whom I depend to find me the fancy-fangled duds that make me look so Presidentiary in the eyes o' the Christian world. These young fellers work behind the scenes, so I'd like to take this momentary to give them some recognission by posting their picture here, jest as my way o' sayin' a big ol' "thankee":




Cain't fer the life o' me fathomate why not even one o' these fellers hasn't been snapped up by some young filly, yet--but they're all still single in case any o' y'all DU-ified ladies is int'rested!

'Course, there are days when I get to pick out my clothes, also--and I don't think I do too badly even if 'n I do say so, myself:


I'd wear this outfit everywhere if I could--cabinet
meetings, press conferences, weddings and funerals--
but ol' Dick and Andy teamed up to shanghai it and
stower it away in some undisclosed location. They
said I could keep the helmet, though.


As a lifelong fan o' "The Flintstones", it was a tremendeverous
honor to finally shake hands with the Great Gazoo.


"Hey, Andy!...down here! Next time, I want me a purple suitypants
jest like these fellers!"