Welcome to Manhattan, where we sit at the bar and play and play Round Robin Mullets

Day three of Flint Hills.

We're in production on the Kedzie Krier and tonight is our late night. Hopefully we'll get a lot done today, so we won't be here too late into the night. Deadline is 3 p.m. tomorrow.

Last night, we made the annual pilgrimage to Last Chance. It was a small group, and the conversation turned to mullets. Not sure what precipitated it, could have been the 4X4 truck, covered in mud, with a four-wheeler in the back that cruised down Moro. There just might have been a mullet in the cab.

Cary, the New Yorker in the bunch, was by far the winner of the "list the mullets" contest.

The rest of us could simply describe the mullets, but he knew all the names.

Kentucky Waterfall.
Business in the front, party in the back.
Fe-Mullet.
Fam-Mullet.
Achy Breaky Bad Mistakey.

This list is a poor representation, I'm forgetting a bunch. Cary needs to jump on here and comment so he can fill in the blanks.

•••

We're doing a story about past camps - the workshop has been in existence in some form since 1959. I've been looking at old camp yearbooks, and they include portraits of each camper. In the 1971 edition, I ran across a GEM.

Bob D. Lutz, Derby High School, Panther's Tale Sport Editor.

Yes, yes, Eagle friends, I shot a copy of it. I'll be holding on to that one for a while.

Off to help with production.