Our festmaster moved into his fashionable bungalow by the lake only two weeks before Summerfest 1992.  Little did he know how much sin was to take place in the upstairs bedroom and how quickly it was to occur.  However, he was correct in assuming that it wouldn't involve him (damn!).

We're all in there somewhere.

Tim and Fred wisely kept their pecs under wraps this year.

You mean we can drink in the shade?

Who's the guy behind Fred?  Seriously, who is it?