Which Reminds Me

It does seem odd somehow to hear all of these thinly veiled Freemasons yapping about how they are going to charge me dues, as if I owed them something. How ridiculous. It is not like I would ever be invited to their private parties so obviously I do not feel myself obligated to pay for that, just some club trivia and rituals that profit me nothing as far as I can tell. They say that it is not really a secret but when or why would I, a non-member and not interested in joining, ever find time to dig around to find all of that stuff anyway? It just wouldn't make any sense for me to ask such questions, much less try to answer that. It's not up to me, obviously. So why all these disordered and meaningless clues? There is no reason for me to torture myself with these complicated points. Life is short and then we die. There is only so far one person can get with this thing before the end comes and still we fall short. Life is short and then we die. We must recognize that we cannot accomplish our salvation by our own strength. We are human. We are weak and mortal beings. Our only hope of salvation lies in accepting what Christ has provided for us in terms of his own life sacrificed on our behalf. We must make a conscious decision to place all of our faith in Jesus who lived a perfect and sinless life, was crucified and rose from the dead and now makes intercession for us at the throne God. There is no other hope for us, or at least for me. Maybe you think that you can do it all in your own strength but life is short and then you die. I would rather place my trust in God who created the heavens and earth. He knows the end from the beginning. Only in Him can be found perfect rest.

Which Reminds Me

I cannot really say what happened to Pammie Puke but if she ever did get fired I would not be able to say that she did not deserve to be forgotten. Was I the only person who is sick and tired of seeing Pammie Puke's dreary opinions painted all over walls everywhere? I am just saying.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I remember Susie saying something about Dawn and Cheryl. I wasn't there at the time so I really wouldn't be able to comment specifically on what Susie said of them as I did not witness that firsthand. Cheryl was already gone when we returned from furlough. All I would be able to say about that is to basically regurgitate something that Susie said about them which seems rather pointless. Why don't you just ask Susie directly to regurgitate what she was saying to me and obviously everyone else on the planet? There is no secret about what a huge gossip Susie is. Everything that Susie ever said to me or us is painted all over the walls everywhere so there is no need for me repeat that, obviously.

Which Reminds Me

What is this mysterious question that they are expecting me to answer? They never cease to hope that they may catch me at making some mistake that may be useful for the case they are building against me. And yet I see no point in that, only a lot of black cats screeching and yowling. There is no discernible point to be proven, no prize to be gained, by killing me. I see no reasonable question that I should be expected to answer in this lifetime. I cannot be expected to be responsible for their future happiness. They caught their mans, they can wash their own pans. And if the man should fail, has not the government generously guaranteed a chicken to every pot? So I see no question that needs answering.

Which Reminds Me

During the year I was attending Evangel College, I once brought a big bottle of Welch's grape juice into the dorm. When I got inside to my dorm hallway, someone across the hall questioned the contents of the brown paper bag that I was carrying. She said that I should be more careful, that people will be wondering what I am really smuggling into the dorm for clandestine consumption. I was not embarrassed to display the bottle of grape juice that I had bought for mostly my own consumption. There was nothing clandestine about that, no reason for this stupid witch from Oklahoma City to be casting about so many bizarre innuendos so damaging to my reputation. It was not like I was guilty of anything.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, I never claimed to be part of the National Honor Society, which in our high school class included mainly Carmen and a couple of other people of no interest. I don't doubt that they may have their own unique opinions on a variety of matters. So that's nice for them. With such a high gpa, doubtless many doors of opportunity will be open to them to explain things their way, whereas the rest of us garden variety gpa people just have to struggle endlessly on the treadmill of life with no special claim to the privilege of giftedness. We get no such gifts, whereas the National Honor Society have constituted themselves as a separate country of supertalented Super-U.S. persons, whereas the rest of us U.S. citizens are left on a level with the dimwits left-behinds of any other country, in this new view of things. So, anyway, we never made any wrongful claim to NHS membership, so there is no reason to continue hammering on this point in this legalistic way.

Which Reminds Me

During third grade in Guadalajara, Mexico, I remember that one day I got confused and entered the wrong classroom, the classroom one over because I don't know, I thought I was walking in the door of one classroom and suddenly the teacher of another class is standing there and starts screaming at me, which scared me badly. I had not meant to enter that classroom. I don't remember how I got lost. Strange that such a minor incident should still be floating around in orbit, as if I had intentionally tried to join the class one year ahead of mine when actually it was just a matter of getting confused about which door was which. And then there was Kent Stone there in my third grade class to always oppose me in everything and make me feel like an idiot. Like the time we were at the beach and wave knocked me over and I did a 360-degree flip in the wave and my fingertips touched the sand, and when I wrote this in a school paper and turned it in to the teacher, the paper was returned to me with the word fingers crossed out and replaced with toes. Clearly the teacher made a mistake and yet Kent ridiculed me for daring to suggest that the teacher might be wrong. Yes, well, we must be diplomatic on these points, but still I don't recall the teacher being there at the beach to experience what I did, so I am just saying, I still think that the teacher was wrong.

Which Reminds Me

I don't know why I should need to explain this, but I have no need of the stupid horrible Jenkins family to tell me anything. I have a very good, very conscientious, very hard-working mother so I have no need of a certain shrill Jenkins hag and her white trash family to tell me anything. I know the value of hard work so there is no reason for me to have to listen to the pathetically endless stupid yapping of their horrible brat Cori. My life will be just fine without the annyoing Jenkins family pestering me on a continual basis.

Which Reminds Me

Hmm....I almost thought that I heard the cackling of wicked witch Carmen buzzing around on her broomstick, still looking for a black cat story I suppose. Well, whatever. My high school diploma is stored safely away somewhere so there is nothing more that they can do to me now. High school is long since over. No more do I need to endure the withering disdain of wicked witch Carmen. She might have been the president of the yearbook committee then but nobody really cares now about that. The yearbook is in print and nothing can be changed from what was done for whatever reasons known only to them, which were not shared with us, how it was that the newspaper staff got short shrift in the yearbook. Whatever of typos and oversights committed under Carmen's supervision are just there for perpetuity to be gazed by generations of researchers to contemplate, who imagine that the yearbook alone comprises everything that can be said about high school, even though we each know that our own individual stories are not really there. Our lives did not start in high school and did not end there. Life goes on and high school and this vapid Carmen/Kathy are just eating dust in the rear view mirror now.

Which Reminds Me

Well, anyway, the Barth family also has its black branch thanks to Daniel and his family. And who is Daniel anyway? It's not like I remember anything about him anyway. There is really no reason for me to care what Daniel does with his life. Guess what, Danny, nobody really cares whatever you do.

Which Reminds Me

During the time that I was in college, I remember that the preppy style was all the rage in some circles, especially among the cheerleaders. At the time I had thought it was just a matter of clothing styles, none of which appealed to me. I never aspired to preppiness, unlike a shrill Italian hag named Jennie and her cheerleader gang. Preppiness as a state of mind was just too expensive for an ordinary white person such as myself, and even if I had the money, why would I want all that junk clogging the airwaves? I think these preppy Italians ought to clean up their own act.

Which Reminds Me

Why all this chatter about the little room or the china closet? It is only a fictional tale of two spinster aunts, Hannah and Maria, who would rather burn their own house to the ground than to yield their personal secrets to the prying eyes and ears of some distant cousins to whom those secrets never did belong in the first place; Hiram being the black servant who somehow considers himself part and parcel of the Keys land even though the Civil War ended slavery long ago, Jane Peebles the woman whose delicious huckleberry pies finally won Hiram as her husband. All this from just a short story by Madelene Yale Wynne, daughter of the inventor of Yale locks, who died in Chicago.

It is only coincidence, I suppose, that we have a box of grandma's china stored in the attic.

Coincidentally, when I did my genealogy research on Ancestry.com a few years ago I noticed that someone else had already blazed the trails before me so that the story of the Burry family was already laid out and easily attached to ours. That research was done by Candice Peebles.

Coincidentally, while working in Miami I once was introduced to a Mr. and Mrs. Peebles, a black couple, but whether they are related to Candice I really wouldn't be able to say. Whether the Burry family has a black branch of its family I really have no idea. No one ever mentioned this to me, nor do I wish to trouble myself over these points of trivia especially given that the Burry connection is so distant from us as to have almost no bearing on my personal life. I just have no idea.

I do hope that these black people exploring their white connections won't be too disappointed when they learn that they are actually not related to the royalty or aristocracy of Europe. They may be finding just a string of white trash cousins who really would prefer not to be reminded of this point and whose ancestors moved to America often for precisely such reasons, because the opportunities of Europe were often closed doors to them. America was a place where they could work their way up from the bottom without the disadvantages of Europe.

Which Reminds Me

I have not the slightest connection to the Italian winemaking Gallos of California nor any desire to benefit from their cash crop wine money. So why all this ridiculous chatter about nothing? If it were a matter of table grapes, fine. But this is not Europe where winemakers own your gut from cradle to grave. This is America where other principles matter more. So all of this much ado about nothing might be another reason for me to leave behind the Republican party for now floundering in its Dantesque purgatorial twilight, because I just don't know anything about that. That wasn't what we signed up for in the first place.

Which Reminds Me

It does seem a bit strange that all of these Spanish people would be trying to attach me to their dreary culture. It's not like I ever really identified myself as Spanish and find it rather annoying that some vague poem that I never heard of from some obscure and unknown poet should be seized upon and interpreted that way. I always did feel like the foreigner in the crowd but not that way. It's not like I would know very much about the Spanish Armada, just that we won and beat off the Spanish flotilla and sent them packing. But why would they still be angry with us for that? And what is all of this nonsense about leaky boats? I don't see what that has to do with the price of tea in China. Whatever that meant.

Which Reminds Me

How is it that some clueless people in Florida and elsewhere think they know something about Shady Acres in California? I never mentioned that to you, so it seems odd that you are getting all of this twisted information from somewhere and yapping to me about the "Grapes of Wrath" book that I never read anyway. It was only fiction so has almost nothing to do with the reality of who I am. It is true that my mother's uncle once owned a migrant workers' camp in California around the time of the Great Depression but mostly I wasn't born yet for most of that. I have only the vaguest notions of that place, having visited there only once as a child and don't know anything else about it. It is true that my mother's uncle was Irish Catholic but I never heard of him being elected a knight of the shire that he would have need to represent us for anything of a political or financial nature so why are you hinting so persistently about him, and besides all of those people are gone now and there is no reason for me to say anything else about that.

Which Reminds Me

I thought that I had declined this opportunity to serve as the personal antipod to the dreary Bush machine, otherwise known as the Sam Houston Club, who wish to somehow relive the famous feud of McClellan vs. Houston. I cannot think of anything more depressing than having to spend all my time in the futile attempt to inject intelligence into these vapid, empty-headed bush people who never seem to remember anything of Texas history and who only wish to benefit politically from the reflected glory of Sam Houston without ever giving credit or remembering that McClellan, too, was a U.S. citizen with his own life story, one whose descendants perhaps might wish to avoid too much public attention on these obscure points of ancient history as mostly irrelevant to our everyday lives, generally speaking. The trail is long and convoluted and may lead all the way back to the clans of medieval Scotland, which is just too complicated for me.

Which Reminds Me

I seem to remember as in a dream that you were saying to me that I should perhaps go to Texas and research in-depth the newspaper writings of my McClellan ancestor. You were saying that I would soon find there in the archives of Texas plenty of evidence that he said some very hateful and stereotypically prejudicial things about people, especially Mexicans and Indians, of whom he occasionally perhaps had advocated the killing for various reasons, such as reprisals or opening the west for white settlers or something like that, especially near the time of the Mexican-American War, a time when he actually was already working in newspapers. He had an ongoing feud with Sam Houston. They had known each other from schooldays and continued to despise each other throughout life.

I have thought about that often but as yet have no money available to move to Austin where I would presumably be spending all of my time commuting to the Texas state archives to look for all of this stuff that you were suggesting to me via your representative. Only a few excerpts are featured in the family book. Yes, perhaps there would be more interesting verbiage there to be found and also in the Sam Houston files.

Nevertheless, I think that it would only be fair that I should not have to pay for that. Since when do the children have to pay for the crimes of their fathers of either side of that argument?

But since all's fair in love and war, perhaps you would also agree to publish the entire unexpurgated complete and unabridged files of this dreary secretive Bush Society of which I suspect the authorship of this commentary may have originated. Since when have I even heard of those people until they drop out of nowhere to attack me?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do recall that our Gallo high school classmate was a sleazy, foul-mouthed creep of no interest, one who ran in that type of fast clique. There would be no reason for me to ever mention his existence. Whether he appears at some future high school reunion, I really couldn't care less. No one ever mentioned whether his cousin is some dirty Mexican bitch. Really, who cares? Methinks that someone upstairs doth protest too much. It's not like the thought ever would have crossed my mind, but I cannot help you with this plan of reversing of the Mexican-American War. I don't have that junk at my fingertips so stop bothering me.

Which Reminds Me

I thought I noted the Calkins meaning of horseshoe component already but now I see even more is there to be noticed. Why do I feel like I am talking to some cranky horse? Generally, I do agree that a comfortable shoe is very important. Those Birkenstocks I bought in college were so comfortable. I still remember that. But as for horseshoes, I would leave the choice of horseshoe with calkins coronet or not to the equine experts. Fortunately, our lives are no longer so dependent on the creature comforts of the horse and beast of burden. We now have machines such as cars and trucks to get us around where we need to go. And if we don't need to go there, we just won't.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was commenting on the people at college, specifically Debbie Tracy, a Library Kid who was often storming around angry with everyone and quoting strangely weird monologues borrowed from some secret vault of criticisms on Staff Island. A lot of people, including me, were mostly afraid of her and kept our distance. You were asking but sorry but I don't remember anything specific about her to tell you, just a general impression to avoid her.

We can't let some geeky Staff Kid run away with everything. Nothing personal. I am just saying.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I agree. I, too, think that all of this cheap lit really gets on my nerves. Where did the context go? Your stupid wordages will be blocked in future because there is nothing very interesting there. Only stupid poor people would be impressed by the disjointed verbiages of a quack literalist such as yourself. You are full of "rocks" with all of the meaning ground away to nothingness. Ground meat is useful for the eating of hamburgers and food but not for digging myself out of this hole, which is why you will be selectively deleted from my memory banks. That is not to say that you don't have your place somewhere in its proper context, just not here. You may be stored away somewhere in the backup files of historical memory but, anyway, life is short. Because you overloaded my memory banks you will just have to wait until I can get all of these details sorted out in their proper order of execution. You should know that you are not at the top of my list in terms of priority of caring about your opinion of anything.

Which Reminds Me

Since when do the clueless chatterboxes of New York have jurisdiction over anything of mine? In this free country of ours, how is it that the clueless chatterboxes of New York would attempt to dictate how I should be spending my money, assuming that I had any?

And are not all my cousins in Texas filthy rich and shamelessly crowing about it in their snarky way, even though they are as yet untitled, at least without any title of interest in this case. Just because their last name is Warren, that does not mean that they are related to that big fat Saddleback braggart. Anyway, no one ever mentioned them in so many words so obviously it is merely a coincidence that they share a surname. It was not Stephen who wrote a bestselling book, obviously.

Doesn't the Bible tell us to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Thus, we see that they expressly asked me to kick their butts. A slime of Long Beach obscures the view. I already know that I am not welcome there so obviously I won't stop by any time soon. It would seem that God's purpose for my life will not involve this meaningless Warren machine.

Which Reminds Me

These copperhead men have nominated me, a redheaded woman, to represent their interests in this Copperhead point even though I don't even know what they are talking about and am not particularly sympathetic to this Golden Circle cause, not that I even know what they are talking about. Who is calling who a snake? Sort of like the pot calling the kettle black, a mootish point of no concern to me.

Which Reminds

I never in my life heard of the KGC (Knights of the Golden Circle) until quite recently. Our family was never involved in any secret societies that I was ever aware of, at least not in so many words. However, I can see where some persons might be looking to build a circumstantial case, given that we are so well acquainted with those secretive castle builders, the Tripletts. It is not only about the castles. It is also about how these Southeastern families seem to think they themselves get a special deal at my expense. Aren't all we as human beings given dominion and authority over creation as per Genesis, north or south matters not so much? So why is the Southeastern-Pennsylvania axis granted such wide latitude to ruin everything? Does make you wonder.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I can only repeat that I know nothing of David's dancing claims. I do suspect, somehow, that you might get more information from Angie Thompson who at one time dated him before he married Rhonda. I sort of suspect that the Thompsons may know something more about that but I really don't remember. It just didn't seem that important at the time that I would need to take detailed notes so I wasn't paying much attention. I can't remember very much so I wish they would just go away and stop harassing me on these minor points that I really don't know very much about. I just can't remember anything.

Which Reminds Me

I do remember seeing someone dancing in the spirit. This type of Pentecostal phenomenon is very rare but it does happen. One time at the Evangelistic Center in San Salvador there was a man who was hopping around in the spirit. He was standing over on one side of the auditorium with a few other people who were standing for prayer. Actually I think it was my Mom who pointed this out to me as an example of dancing in the spirit and not to say anything because of course it wasn't our place to comment on people's emotional outbursts in church. Who are you to comment on someone's personal experience? You are not inside their heads and don't what they are experiencing. Anyway, if something is out of order the pastoral staff is there to manage things, so it wouldn't be appropriate for us to comment on that. Did I myself not experience actual clapping in the spirit? So these things can happen although rarely.

Anyway, we all know your cousin David is no king. If he actually had danced in the spirit and someone had criticized that we could understand something. But we were not present at any such event and know nothing of it. The first that we hear a hint of this, the curses of Michal are being heaped on our heads. You only wish that I had said something you could use against me. But I do not need to explain the rules to you, about how you do not get extra credit for hanging out in nightclubs and dance halls, etc. Does not God call us to come out from them and be separate? To sin no more? To be holy as He is holy? God is perfect. We humans of sinful nature cannot quite reach perfection which is why Jesus came, so that we could learn how to really live.

Also, most people are not qualified to wear the uniform of the sumo wrestler of the Orient nor would performing that way be a requirement in this day and age. There is a culture where that type of performance is valued for whatever reason but that is hard for us to comprehend.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, ha ha ha! Something about Miss Calkins' Select School in Washington, D.C. As if that had anything to do with me. I have been asked once or twice what I know about the Secret Service people who protect the president and I said then, as I say now, that I only remember reading about them in newspapers and magazines, something about the odd little nicknames they give to the people they are protecting. Ok, whatever. Obviously I have no personal connection to that. To claim otherwise would only be to make myself a national joke which would not be to my life and work given that my unique personality is no way a clone of some other Miss Calkins. I am just saying.

Which Reminds Me

It is interesting to note the existence of Miss Mary Whiton Calkins, a famous person person of my surname. I have been almost unaware of this person's existence most of the time so I really have no intelligent commentary to offer on the subject of her. I do not wish to disrespect her academic achievements. I doubt that I could pass the doctoral exam of Harvard, as she did, for starters, so I really do not feel myself qualified to comment on the various writings of Miss Calkins that are part of the literature of philosophy and psychology. I see that she has had her place at the table in the existential sense, never mind about Professor Perry. Although it may be useful to Criticize with a big capital C, these tidbits alone do not constitute a Confederacy of Miss Calkins. What a headache to be see that someone is expecting to be constituted a clone of Miss Calkins. It is not possible for me to share the consciousness of Mary. I am only conscious that I know almost nothing about her and really don't mind not being her. My knowledge of psychology is not very deep but that never did interest me very much anyway. Contemplating one's own naval only gets you so far and then you have to go out and get a job and work.

Which Reminds Me

I do vaguely remember that the family photo collection at one time included a photo of a certain Mr. Lee, possibly a Chinese person, although no information is given. There is no context to explain this photo other than my great-grandparents at one time lived in China and had various photos of unknown persons there, most of these without names. That was 100 years ago and there is no way for us to track these people. I just have no idea.

Which Reminds Me

I really shouldn't have to explain that my name is not Clara and that I have never lived in Santa Clara, California, nor been taught school in New York that I should run for president there. We do have some distant unknown relatives who live there, in San Jose that is, but I have never met them, nor been invited to meet them, nor is there any reason to go there to meet them as they don't seem to want to communicate with us anyway. Some busybody has been busy punning about them all over the place but this is meaningless. There is nothing that I can say publicly about them that would mean anything. Hopefully, God will take care of them.

Which Reminds Me

I really am wondering how it is that my name accidentally got linked to that of shrill Italian hag Jennie Cerrullo. Just because we coincidentally attended the same college at about the same time, that does not mean that I would want my name linked to her birth control ministry or to be reminded of her snarky cheerleader pomp. I suppose that the cheerleaders by now have found their places somewhere in the sewers of life after college but I never cared to spend much time chatting with those dull boring cheerleaders who seem to have no conception of persons outside of themselves. I might have other plans for myself and my life that in now way would involve them if only I could dig myself out of this hole. I suppose that it would be kind if some people would send Jennie some money so that we don't have to listen to her obnoxious fundraising appeals.

Which Reminds Me

I don't remember this clearly but I do seem to remember Elizabeth Iaturro singing the praises of Jennie Cerrullo, an Italian who has a Ph.D. and has served as a school principal and has a ministry that is always in need of additional funding. Ok, fine. That's nice. But do you have to make it sound like Jennie is taking money away from me when I never was expecting anything from them anyway and don't really care what they do in the first place? Nasty Italian dogs such as Elizabeth Iaturro seem to take a special delight in tormenting white people such as myself with all of this garbage for whatever reason, as if they were expecting me to prove something or provide some ethnic object lesson. As if law requires that I establish some fundraising ministry for public display just because. Um, not really. As if I should care about that when God would not be calling me merely to serve their hunger for self-glorification. I would be expecting to get married eventually and then the opinion of some stupid Italian dog just won't matter. After I get married and have a husband to pay my bills I won't have to feel all this pressure to accomplish something that I really don't care about anyway all by myself with no one to help me and surrounded by all these Italian dogs all ready and eager to spite me and ridicule my every move. So, anyway, now all I need is a husband to pay my bills. Or a paycheck. Or both. I do not share Elizabeth Iaturro's aversion to marriage. I think that I would get married if Mr. Right ever appeared on the scene. Anyway, money makes the world go round, as the song goes. Without money I am just dead in the water.

Which Reminds Me

How many times do I have to explain that my family was never part of the KKK and we are not in need of any racial reeducation program. You obviously have gotten us confused with some distant cousins such as the Cranfords who do have deep roots there but I never met them and they are not our problem. Enough said about that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do vaguely recall that for about a year in California I had a roommate named Laura Entz, of German Mennonite background, who had also lived in Korea as a missionary kid. I lost track of her long ago. She moved away and who knows what happened to her. It was amazing how many boyfriends she had coming and going at the time. There was a guy from Bolivia, a black guy who worked at a library, a cranky white guy who worked in the aeronautics industry nearby, etc. etc. I cannot be expected to keep track of all of Laura's boyfriends. They all belonged to her. Interesting how blondes can get away with flirting that way whereas if I acted like that I would just be stigmatized. As Laura said to me with a condescending look, I have all those awful freckles. The freckles, they just won't go away. And so what? If I had to live my life based on something Laura said or thought I would just go nuts. Laura just doesn't understand me and neither did her stupid cat that bit me on the legs and crawled all over the kitchen counters shedding cat hair all over the place. Good riddance to Laura, said I, when she decided to move out. I was more comfortable living without her around to make a mess of everything.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, who was that anonymous donor who paid off my tuition bill not long before I graduated from SCC? One is not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth so it would seem sort of rude to ask where that came from. I really don't know but my parents are missionaries and people often felt sorry for me and gave me bags of stuff and annoying pitiful attentions that perhaps I would be better off without, 'tis true. However, if you thought you were buying my services with that donation, well, then you will be sorely disappointed. Just having a diploma stored in a drawer somewhere doesn't mean that I am your slave property. If you are going to look at it that way, well you really ought to be forced to eat your own words in my opinion, because anyway it wasn't about you, obviously.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I really must be very careful about what I say or sing. I wouldn't want to accidentally run afoul of some Jewish princess who would just eat me or kill me or something. Obviously I would prefer to avoid those people entirely and not get myself accidentally linked to their system of which I have no understanding and really don't care that much. In retrospect I probably should have explained to Darlene at the time why I don't want to sing this Deborah song but at the time I just thought that I had to do whatever they say to finish my degree and graduate. That was all I was thinking about at the time. Anway, who's calling who a dog? Well, enough said.

Which Reminds Me

I do find it hard to understand why you are so obsessed with the fact that I once had a cousin named David although he is dead now. His eyes were brown. He was not your cousin anyway so what would his life matter to you unless you are well-connected to the riff-raff underground of San Francisco of which David was such a vital part in which case, well, then I don't think we have could possibly have anything in common anyway. There is really nothing that I would want to say about him in a public way. I may pity you but I do not exactly share your twisted perspective on the subject. I mean, don't we want everyone to repent of their sins and get saved as the Bible commands, whether our cousins or not? But beyond that, I really cannot handle the weight of all of your mental problems that you keep trying to throw at me. I do hope that my cousins get saved, and I have prayed for them, but beyond that I really can't be expected to keep track of what they are doing at all times. I have to have faith that God will take care of them because anyway it's really not up to me. Each person has to make their own voluntary and personal decision as to whether they decide to believe in Christ. So I might talk about that once in a while in my personal life but I also have other things to think about such as work. How odd that some shrill gutter-snipe from the Streets of San Francisco should suddenly appear before me to lecture on some obscure points. You can't really say much when I see that you have some infectious marks on your own plate. I would only be guessing if I speculated that you probably live under quarantine conditions because a lot of us don't really want to be exposed to this mysterious SKnickers Disease of which we never really understood very much. A lot of these people that I mostly avoided during college because I didn't like them very much, you drag around and stick in my face as if that proves something. They are known to suddenly break forth into strange and meaningless songs and monologues. I'll be walking along doing fine and then all of a sudden it is 1842 and I don't even know who I am or who is talking to me. Knickerbocker magazine writers certainly were genius writers of their day but 150 years later there is a lot of water under that bridge. I wasn't invited to the planning party so I really don't care that much.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, since when is Linda Geesey the diploma-granting agent of our university? I vaguely remember the name but nothing specific about her so I really don't find that joke very amusing.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, why did I trade out all those pennies. It didn't make any sense. Anyway, if the Lambeth brothers cannot forgive that, God will not forgive them either for all their wickedness toward me and more. I am just saying. I don't work for them anymore so I just want them to go away and leave me alone. But if they persist in annoying me, don't imagine that a penniless nobody has no leverage in heaven. I never really liked them anyway. It was just a temporary job.

Which Reminds Me

Someone else was talking about a van but I don't remember any details of that, just that someone was worried about that or even who said that in the first place after all this time. I don't know any of the persons involved so I really am not able to comment intelligently. Enough said.