on this day some 24 years ago, a child like no other was born in israel. this child had calf muscles that bulged like ripe butternut squash. butternut squash that filled the ravioli of his legs and was covered with the sage brown butter of his skin. a powerful, comforting, explosive dish of a man, perfect for winter and fiercly coveted by the TLP.
i don’t know where the fuck i’m going with all this, but i should probably stop, and we should all wish nitzan lumer the happiest of birthdays. speechwriters llc is now, collectively, a perfect century, and we should all celebrate the birth of the man who would become the powerful legs of this otherwise round-shouldered, sunken-chested band.
also, for those of you who follow this sort of thing, we’re working on the soundtrack to your lives methodically and yet with barely contained emotion. these new songs will be like surgeons who cannot stop crying. or dancing, for that matter. or performing surgery because, you know, that’s their job.
happy birthday, nitz.
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