The Conservatory
An apolitical non-sectarian sanctuary where Hymen is offensive, but Urine is hilarious. A quiet place of rest, respite, and refuge; a smoky, ceiling-fanned haven of joviality and jocularity far removed from the hectic pace and daily drudge of life. A He-Man Woman Haters Club where wrinkled old lawyers and other professionals can drink overpriced maple-flavored bourbon, smoke expensive cigars, watch hockey games, brag (or complain) about their new hips, trade stories and golf clubs, Buck Up, turn 50 cents into a dollar, and have their income redistributed (efg). Also colloquially known as “The C” or “Bogie’s Place.” Members may be referred to as “Men of The C.”
“I’m going to The Conservatory, don’t wait up.”
“I got pimped ten straight hands at The C. Who dealt this drek?”
“I got pimped ten straight hands at The C. Who dealt this drek?”
The Conservatory by rossfish February 4, 2020
