Wuhll Howdy, Momster,
Shucks, hi-are-yi-doin?
Sunday rnernin 'bout 7am an' I is feelin' verbose. Mah dawg is watchin' Gardening Naturally. He prefers the O.J. Simpson proceedings (boring legal jargon puts him right to sleep). I am secretly training him in his sleep with old Lassie, Flipper and Scooby-Doo episodes--anything with good human/animal role models. Absolutely no Police Dog or Ninja Pups with gratuitous barking. Steven King is right out.
I tell ya it's eternal vigilance ya gotta have with these kids. He's a feisty little toddler, but I'm breaking him. A little psychology, a little reasoning--talking him through it like a director (sit-good-perfect-fabulous-hold it--- no, no, no -- it's all wrong, take it from the top, etc). Gettin' a picture, yet?
Yeah, but he loves me. He won't never catch a rabbit, but that's OK cause he's good enough, smart enough and doggonit -- people like him. Especially little kids. He licks their little faces, whereas he bites my scraggly old beard (still looking for a teat somewhere in there).
Whoa--gotta GO.
Little tyke was getting restless. I gotta get him on an independent study program, 'stead of this Mr. Constant Attention Required.
But he's a regular Gomer Pile, or uh, Forrest Dump. He does his most prodigious work outdoors, thank God. He's had his first worms and his first fleas. Oh boy, what's next? His first psychoanalysis? His first double homicide? Aw, heck, I can feel a nap corning on...
And the days and weeks whirred by like daises, like birds, and the spring came with its lengthening of days and balmy nights. And there was music, and bells -- but I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all -- and there was Huck.
Old sad, droopy-eyed, mutton-jowled, hang-dog shuckle-burnpkin. He's got Willie Nelson Ears. He's my buddy. Did I mention that he loves me? He shore does. He's always trying to make eye contact with me, just for reassurance. Now, who will reassure me?
I seem to have faith these days, or is it blissful ignorance? Wutcha gonna do when the well run dry? Get a haircut and get a real job? I dunno. I'd a hundred times rather be just making it and be my own boss than be working for someone else eight hours a day, day in day out. Especially with today's corporate streamlining, downsizing and layoffs of long-term employees nearing retirement age, blah, blah, blah ...
The world is starting to suck for a large number of people. Or has it always sucked? Is sucking intrinsic to the world? Is the balance of sucking shifting out of our favor? For whom doesn't it suck and why? Is it just a state of mind?
Do we need drugs? Or guns? Or bombs, or what? Is the answer to just live quietly, ignoring it all, or is that just postponing the inevitable? We've got hate groups race riots, people poisoning Tylenol ... are we headed for Armageddon? Live, breaking news -- The End of the World -- we'll show it to you right after these messages.
Thus endeth the ravings of one Andrew P. Golding this day, Monday 9am 4-24-95.
OK, it looks like I’m a little late getting this bulletin out. No new news. See ya when I see ya.
Love,
Andrew
