of mujibur and sirajul

Life is slow. The afternoon heat is oppressive, and it seems
inconceivable that in a few short months, it'll be colder than all
hell, the lake will be frozen over, and life as I know it will take on
a strange new turn. Not to mention that b-school will have started,
500 type-A personalities will be rarin' to have a go at each other, the
suits will descend upon campus, recruiting parties will be in full
swing, and I'll probably have had enough rusty nails for a life time.
Then, of course, there's the fear of the unknown: can one order up a
rusty nail at cocktail parties? Will I need to buy clod-hoppers come
snow? But for now, I have pushed those vile thoughts away, and have
tried to get excited about the cooler 80s.

Lunch at Subway, and I saw this guy with a Mujibur and Sirajul t-shirt
on. God, it seems like decades ago when Dave had dominion of
common-room TVs (but I'm dating myself) and spam was still filterless.