Which Reminds Me

Oh, is the Emerson version an alternative to the dreary Wilson version? I wasn't paying attention to that. Hopefully someone took care to pay off the dreary Riffle Riff-Raff because we don't want to be hearing sounds of a hostile takeover from those dreary horrid people. That would be scary when they are so completely unknown to us, so completely unrelated to anything that we care to learn more about. Basically, my salvation depends no not going to hell with you. Sorry if that sounds mean but, anyway, those events all happened in 1950 and there is much water under the bridge since then.

Oh, did you all not get the memo? You are all fired. Go get a job of your own. Double check the names on your paycheck and you will see that my name is not there. Do I owe you something? No, I don't think that I do. You will need to get your living elsewhere from now on, which is what you were trained for, to take care of yourself after we are gone. The Emancipation Proclamation was not issued to enslave me in reverse. No, it was designed to release you from having to deliver services to me without a paycheck. And the reverse is also true. I will be cleaning my own bathroom from now on. I will be doing my own stuff without any help from you and yours. So, fine, go away. Get lost. I don't want to be hearing your shrill voice screeching like fingernails on a chalkboard after the mission has lost its original meaning and purpose. I think that I have delivered the work services more or less on schedule so there is nothing else that I need to discuss with regards to that other than where is my paycheck. We all need our paychecks delivered more or less on schedule. Goodbye.

Which Reminds Me

In a way I can see why Louisiana is so desperate to recruit someone to go there and help them with the show. After all, nobody imagines that Miriam can sing and dance. Not that Miriam. I mean Miriam Denham who is from Louisiana. I really must defer to the joke writing skills of Miriam. Even if she might resemble a baked potato onstage, one imagines that you could find a wealth of gossipy tidbits and scuttlebutt about Louisiana if you would start pumping her, not me. I don't do that. My brain doesn't work that way. You can't get something from nothing. You have got to go where the gossip flows and that would be Miriam.

Which Reminds Me

In reading the diaries of great-grandmothers, we saw her collecting monies from various people, perhaps the Richardsons. Also, she talks about burning some paperwork, so who knows if there is any paper trail left to follow. Yet all this chatter does leave one wondering who was left holding the bag, of money that is, if there was any, but I don't know. I only know that I don't have it.

Which Reminds Me

I seem to remember hearing the story told of how someone put something on the chair of Miss Nafsker before she sat down on it, a tack perhaps, done by perhaps Craig, a rather immature boy, and besides that a Canadian. That wasn't very nice. Even if Miss Nafsker's personality was a bit irritating to him, that was not a nice thing to do to anyone. Who does that? But of course, these Canadians are so mean and nasty and besides that it is amazing how they don't self-censor their own bad behavior and rotten attitudes. They just burst in here like bulls in a china shop, imagining that we aren't going to notice that. Hmmmm....

Which Reminds Me

If you are looking for a villain to prosecute, I would suggest that you explore the evil intentions of Mr. Woolsey. Why is this wicked man, Mr. Woolsey, so interested in basically killing and slaughtering us? Whence Mr. Woolsey's odd fascination with the name of Catherine? Why so sheltered and protected by Louisiana's house of ill repute? Mr. Woolsey presents nothing to commend himself that we can see, only a name and various innuendos without any actual paperwork to explain his presence on the Grand Jury. What are we to make of that? We are powerless victims of some very wicked and powerful liars as far as I can tell, although I really have no idea what happened.

Which Reminds Me

Broadway Mark came to our Christian college campus and gave a speech about his experiences as pianist for a road show promoting abysmally wicked aspects of Texas history. He talked about the wild parties after the show as being the most memorable aspect of that, at least to him. Oh! So obviously his speech did not make a big impression at our Christian college, needless to say. Why do I have to explain this obvious point? How stupid can you be? How rude is Modesto to insert their stupid Hollywood nose into that worthless pile of garbage? Obviously, Modesto has sold its soul to those ugly dogs, needless to say.

We also heard Mark's voice online talking about how he is so shy of the spotlight, not wanting to detract by confusion from the accomplishments of the harmonica player from San Francisco, whose name is identical to his. Ok, fine.

Mark needs to be free to focus his attentions on those elderly aging Broadway biddies whose well established stage careers allow them to pay him big bucks to accompany their songstress acts in cabarets and other venues. Ok, fine.

Perhaps Mark had not heard that I am changing careers now and won't be going there. So if I someday get around to writing a book requiring a depth of comprehension of various psychological and theological points, I won't be needing the services of simple-minded party boy Broadway Mark. Needless to say.

Broadway shows are all about assembling a formulaic number of automatic widgets in such a way that people may be stimulated to cheer for the hero and boo the villain, thus selling X number of tickets. Ditto to Hollywood.

But for us regular folks life, the truth, is more complicated than that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, why am I getting all these Letters of Marque? Something you may need to get around on the High Seas perhaps. But then, oh no, I see that you are talking about Broadway Mark. Oh, that Mark. I only met him personally once in my entire life and I don't think he liked me. He almost immediately said that he would not help me. Ok, so, whatever. Fine. Mark is not going to help me. Ok, fine. Help me what? He didn't get specific. He just said "help," or rather "not help," in whatever sense of the word "help" might mean to him, or you, or everyone else in the room who overheard that, one would easily imagine.

Anyway, one would easily imagine that Broadway Mark has long since married his long-time girlfriend, the one who was seen accompanying him on visits to our campus, although I haven't heard anything specific about that. One would easily imagine that Mark, with his many talents, would have risen to the top of the music profession there in New York City.

Mark once came to our campus and gave a speech about his experiences touring with a Broadway road show. He described the lengthy parties that follow the show, where all the performers run around acting crazy in their hotel rooms. So that was, well, interesting? So we hope that Mark lives happily ever after in NYC but we were not planning to follow him there. Most of us have more modest ambitions. We have no illusions of being able to compete in such a competitive environment. Or at least I speak for myself.

Which Reminds Me

Ok, so if your surname is "Light," does that mean that whatever you say overrides everything that anyone else might say about something? You weren't so important to me that I could not completely forget about you. In fact, I don't remember your first name, only that you were married to that boring yakkety-yakker from Yakima.

Which Reminds Me

After returning from California the last time, I noticed that Mr. Woolsey is an assistant pastor to Jimmy Swaggart in Louisiana. Hmmm.... I wonder if he is somehow related to or descended from the Mr. Woolsey who was a witness for the prosecution in 1950 in San Francisco. Hmmm.... This is why I do not want to go to Louisiana, only to find myself accidentally part of another very bad joke that didn't belong to me in the first place. This is no place for humor. It is a very serious matter. If Mr. Woolsey has some bone to pick, he may direct his comments to the proper authorities, legal or otherwise, which wouldn't be me. But for me to go there, to Louisiana, only to find that the plan all along was to capture me on the high seas, well, it just wouldn't be worth the effort of trying to do that. Not that I could not produce a proper note, but ultimately I could never thrive or succeed in such a clause-trophobic environment.

You recommended that I commit suicide but I have as yet disregarded your bad advice. I don't find such humor amusing. I think that it is a very serious matter that is over your head.  

Which Reminds Me

I sometimes hear people talking online about an elderly woman in San Francisco area who lost very much money on the stock market and bad investments. It is hard for me to understand why I should care about that. People lose money in the stock market every day. It happens all the time. She is never identified as anyone connected with us in any way so I don't understand what your point is in regards to that. Who was she? How did she lose the money? How much money did she lose? What was this bad investment that didn't pay off? I want to hear the actual facts about that, not just the usual disinformation that doesn't make any sense.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was trying to throw me to Anna Eber, who was a single women on the board of the company, someone from Ohio. I know almost nothing about these people so it is hard for me to say anything about that one way or another. It is hard for me to understand what Ohio's problem is. My great-grandparents were married in Ohio in 1899 and they moved to California shortly afterward so in our generation Ohio has not very little signification for us.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do remember when I was maybe 10 or 11 years old, there was a sleepover at the Stewarts' house. We, my sister and I, were in Susie's very large room, myself asleep on a couch, and I was having a dream in which I was opening a box, whether Pandora's box or other box I know not, and the lid of the box flipped open and hit me on the leg. And then I woke up and saw that it was morning and that Susie's twin brother Sam had come into the room and thrown a shoe at me, which shoe hit me on the leg. So that was weird. So my dream was sort of true in a way. With friends like that, I have no need of enemies. They already do everything possible to make my life miserable so how can things get even worse than that?

Which Reminds Me

Scripting demands that I refer to one of my Dad's favorite lines, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, what the Pastor doesn't do the assistant must." Meaning that if you are on staff you have to do whatever the Pastor has left undone. But as I am not on staff and not licensed in any obligatory sort of way, only my Dad is, I am not inclined to spend much time plugging the emptiness of the Ashcrafts. They just wouldn't understand.

Which Reminds Me

Scripting demands that I say something about Carmen, the high school classmate, a Mayan or Caribbean snake, obviously not the European royalty. You were perhaps expecting me to ask why are so many national honors may be heaped upon such a nasty hateful person? At least toward me. Anyone who is a close friend of Miss Murphy is no friend of mine. We can't have Murphy's law prevailing on this planet in which the worst-case scenario necessarily wins. How could I possibly have a reasonable conversation with such a boring person with the personality of cardboard cutouts? A mere clone, obviously, of the Calabrian monstrosity who sat directly in front of me in the alphabetical order of things. I may have played paper dolls as a child but such things are not appropriate for adult life. I won't need those horrid people for anything in my future life after high school, at least in my opinion. I know this is not what I was supposed to say in your pre-written contrarian script but I am not your slave property so things just aren't going to work out that way in real life contrarily speaking. So there is some scripting for you to chew on.

Which Reminds Me

During college I remember that Dauna K. was very angry with me because I had failed to help facilitate her budding romance with Tim Cederblom. So how do I politely tell Dauna and her Camera crew where to go? Of course it was obvious to everyone else that Tim was not going to be interested in Dauna so it would be useless for me to say anything more about that. You can't make people like you, Dauna, when you are actually using people for some other purpose that is not clear to us.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do remember that someone was making jokes about Archie Bunker but I have completely forgotten who said what. What was that about? I can probably count on one hand the times I ever watched even one portion of that TV show so I really have nothing to add to that line of commentary. I am just completely lost as to what points you are trying to make in regards to Archie Bunker.

Which Reminds Me

In 10th grade English class our teacher Miss Marken was talking about the Watergate hearings and how John Dean was gaining notoriety on television ratting on his co-workers. More recently, we notice that he has outlived most of them and is still around to make noise and write books about that while most of the rest of those Watergate people are long gone.

Some people may be asking why we don't see the Bueno brats writing books and making speeches about the political situation in Chile. I don't have any idea why that is. I don't know, maybe they would have rat on themselves, but I would only be guessing if I said anything about that because I don't really know anything about that. I wasn't intending to dig up something so controversial. It was just accidental.

Which Reminds Me

I am thinking that you cannot be seriously expecting me to provide analysis of the Road Movies. My family, we were never huge fans of Bob Hope and some other Hollywood people who live only to promote themselves and thus can easily be read about in old magazines. No need to venture out of the comfort of one's own home to learn more about the perils of Hollywood stardumb. Only now that the old movies are shown in reruns on TV and Youtube do we start to notice some other odd things about that. Even so, the sources of that are probably long since dead. It's just one of those Hollywood files that are not accessible to the regular folks who are expected to buy tickets and not ask too many questions.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, we really do need to do something about this crazy Superman slave contract probably still on file somewhere in Sacramento. Needless to say, nothing could be done without a paying client, never mind about the ambitious boiler plate verbiage. We, although descendants of them, cannot be bound by that slave contract wording, especially since all of the names on the document are long since deceased and the organizers disappeared into oblivion. The thing was later shredded because it was just another one of those insolvent endeavors that never quite got off the ground, which is probably the most reasonable way of looking at that. You cannot be seriously condoning the concept of selling us into slavery that way. If so, we will have to ask the government to protect us from them because it just wasn't that important. If someone lost their money, I don't who took it. I only know that I don't have it.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I seem to vaguely remember maybe some time in girls' choir in high school someone, maybe our director Mrs. Sanjoe, talking about how nice it is that we can all attend this nice high school where nobody is on drugs and having wild parties, unlike those crazy high schools up in the United States. So that is one way of flattering yourself on being better than everybody else, being on the payroll of what, maybe the CIA. And how did that get thrown at me? I am confused about what you are asking me when you know full well that Dauna K. is a KGB agent maybe, or else on the payroll of the Kopekny-Kennedy complex, whatever that is, which was an interesting thing to accidentally learn. Oh, I didn't know that. I wasn't meaning to pick a fight with them. They would just kill me and I would never even know what hit me.

Which Reminds Me

I think that I do remember my grandfather McClellan talking about Thomas More and something about how things could have turned out differently under other circumstances, but I cannot recall the details of that. I think that it is just another moot point of history, and how things could have worked out differently under other circumstances but didn't. The doors of Tudor history have been closed for a long time now and everyone has moved on to other things. My grandfather probably knew many interesting things but he died in 1971 so there is no way that I can go back and ask him to explain that again. It was a key point of the Protestant Reformation in England that King Henry VIII did not have to have the Pope's permission to divorce his Spanish wife but of course the Stricklands are Catholic recusants so they would apparently want to make some political points on that score, roll back the Protestant Reformation and restore the religious uniformity of Europe,  even if I really can't help with that because I don't remember anything. It's just all out of my control. Yes, it was one of those things where both sides had some good points but only side could win. So what else is there to say about that? Sometimes life just isn't fair. Sometimes you have to lose something to win. Otherwise it's just a stalemate.

Which Reminds Me

That story about my having had a personal encounter with Jimmy Swaggart is a complete lie, so whoever those people are who are saying that are just complete liars. As far as I am concerned, there is nothing worth saying about them. They are not worthy to be dignified with intelligent commentary on such ridiculous points. There seems to be some running joke about the single women who were on the payroll of the Jimmy Swaggart organization as being something akin to temple prostitutes, no different from that streetwalker described in the scandal papers. Well, who am I to judge what that was about? I only know what I read or saw in the media about that. And anyway, I never even applied for a job opening mentioned so there is really nothing much for me to say about that. If you are so insistent on pushing the point, I can remember that single women such as Sandra Santiago and Sylvia Brooks were on the payroll there at least before the scandal but they are married now and have husbands to defend them against any such impertinent and false commentaries distributed by whoever it is. Who would even think of such a foul comparison except maybe some dirty filthy Hindu skunk also on Jimmy's payroll. Since when do Christians take their cues on such topics from Hindus? But I digress. I really have no evidence on that one way or another.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there are so many persons named Diane on this planet, it is hard for me to tell them all apart. There were several Dianes in college, church, etc. I really can't talk about every Diane on the planet at the same time without getting confused as to who exactly I am talking to or about. Nobody really cares whether they call you Di or not. I know I don't. And no, I don't miss your not being here. In fact, I might not even be aware of your existence until after I do the proper genealogical research so it would be ridiculously preemptive of me to say something about some other Diane when I have no idea who that person might be or why I should care.

Which Reminds Me

I seem to remember at the beginning of 10th grade that Miss Marken, our English teacher, was talking about how her summer went back in the U.S., something about how the daily Watergate hearings on television were the highlighted entertainment of the summer. I never really studied that very much so I don't remember very much about that although I do think she said something about Dean. My parents may have voted for Nixon but that was a long time. But of course the Whitaker twins were not present that year so they wouldn't remember anything about that.

Which Reminds Me

Even so, I never had the slightest connection to British royalty. Just because I was sitting on the opposite side of the classroom from CIA agent Raymond, in closer proximity to Scottish Stephanie perhaps than you, not that I asked for more details about that, that does not mean that I have any idea what automatic widgets you may be devising in your sick head. Hugh? I don't know what you expect me to do about that. It's just all out of my control.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, it is no secret that the Kennedy clan got nothing from us but vociferous criticism of their errant ways. You are expecting too much if you think that I am going to have my father or grandfather arrested for having launched into some fierce living room rant in front of the television set about them. Freedom of speech is an important principle in this our democracy and/or constitutional republic. Private citizens have their political opinions of varying sorts. Last I checked, Kennedy was no King above all reproach who could not be held to account for the Bay of Pigs or whatever it was. I don't understand why you persecute us so severely for not liking you. That's just life. You can't make all of the people like you all of the time. And that is what happens when you try to run for political office. You run into walls of criticism in various places. But of course California already sold its soul to them so there is no longer any reason to go there. So just having criticized the Kennedys does not constitute one an enemy of one's own country. I am just saying. But of course they have so much money, so much power, so much prestige, so much illusion of Camelot. If you work for only them you will not want to talk to me about that and vice versa. I will also want to avoid your mindless chatterbox ways. Because I am not sure which planet you are broadcasting from. Anyway, I really don't care that much about those dull and boring bulldogs who only care about themselves anyway. I heard that the Kennedys made a secret deal with the Russians in regards to the tanking of Mary Jo Kopeknee, a single woman they vowed to eternally trash and derogate in order to detract attention from the idiotic behavior of Ted. But of course you digress. We know that you are continually throwing things to distract. That's not news.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do vaguely remember that someone was talking about how the Russian Orthodox priests are tools of the Communist Party, and how they use the confessional to keep their people under control, whether religious or political or psychological.

And how is that any different from the way that our country uses licensed counselors to download information to be used for other purposes than just to "help" you? When the party people finish the job of merging us all into One Party, how will there be any difference from them? The Cold War just won't matter anymore. How stupid do you think I am that I can't figure that out? Not.

Which Reminds Me

I think that I vaguely recall hearing Kathy crowing about the problem of Russian influence in high school but I have no idea what she might have meant by that if I even heard that rightly. I only know that Kathy lives in her own private La-La Land. Occasionally you might overhear some odd texting emanations coming from them but I have no idea where their heads are at so I would not be able to comment on that.

Which Reminds Me

Why are we talking about the Cold War? About how the Russians are the bad guys and we the good? That was 40 years ago, back before your very own hero Ronald Reagan pushed to have all the walls demolished. Without walls, how can you expect us to know who is good or bad? You can't have your cake and eat it, too. You can't really expect us to perpetuate the Cold War while you at the same time are cultivating your personal networking detente and thaws, meltdowns and button resets and so forth. The world is just going to be a messier place in the future from the looks of things. I don't know what you expect us to do about that when you yourself are talking out of both sides of your mouth.

Which Reminds Me

Forty years ago is a long time to be remembering every little thing I said or did, or not, while attending high school. So just get off my back, Libby. You have no place to be screaming at me. You spent four years of high school mostly blocking me, obviously, so you really should not be surprised to find there is nothing much to remember about that. I know that I would prefer to forget about the miseries of high school of which you doubtless played a role so obviously I am going to be dismantling any machineries in which your presence is detected.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was an interesting story that someone, I can't quite recall who, as if in a dream, was telling me about the statue of Christ that was built in the Andes mountains in 1904 to commemorate the peace between Chile and Argentina following several years of a civil war in regards to border disputes. So that was a method the people used to build common ground and smooth over their differences and disagreements, presenting a united face to the world at large, which sort of makes sense to me in a way because it doubtless helps to avoid further discussion. They can just point to the statute and leave it at that. Even if some other people are left in the dark as to the details of that, it is a political matter that does not interest me very much. I suppose that someone should probably make the effort of ferreting out something about that but anyway that was not my job. I didn't have much to go on, just something that John Bueno told my mother afterward on the telephone which my mother then relayed to me. Oh, I didn't know that. Knowing what I know now, I should be asking why should I feel guilty about something? I am not Chilean. That wasn't my problem.

As for me personally, I put no faith in statues. God is spirit and those who worship God must worship Him in spirit and in truth. So just putting a chunk of decorative concrete on a freezing cold mountaintop really accomplishes very little in terms of furthering the global understanding of border disputes in 19th century Chile and Argentina if that is what you were wanting to know more about. Anyway, it is fairly obvious that the spirit of that is somewhere else. But anyway God knows the truth of it even if some other people dissimulate.

And who I am to dispute the wisdom of the Truman doctrine? You should probably be talking to the elected legislators such as Jerry Ford about that, not so much me. I have no idea why I should care about that.

And if I should give my body to be incinerated in the space shuttle Challenger, what profit do you get from that when obviously there is no love in your angry heart. Anyway, Jesus probably has my DNA code on file somewhere so he can reconstitute me later in the next life if I place my faith in him alone.

Do you really think that I am so stupid I cannot detect the automatic widget which makes the people always against me, me always wrong. It's just always the same old routine about me not being the elect, me vs. the people, me=0, m=nothing. So?

Which Reminds Me

If you are looking for practical then you will want to hire my mother. My mother is always so eminently practical practical practical. If only I was half as practical as my mother. My mother always has such practical things to say and practical things to do and practical advice to give. Too bad I don't quality as "Most Practical." You won't want me around to mess with the practicality of being practical as the foremost virtue of practically all time. You will want to hire my mother and dispose of me as not worthy of the concept of practicality because I am not an exact duplicate clone of my mother, which is a true and uncontested point. I would be glad to step aside and will do so whenever Mr. Right comes along, if ever, so that I can set up my own life in the most practical way I know how, even if only a shadow of mother. As the saying goes, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage. But of course Mr. Right must first appear. Otherwise, I am not so unpractical as to put the cart before the horse. And if Mr. Right does not appear within a reasonable time I am going to have a serious problem navigating the rest of my life. I will need a serious paycheck. Money is not the only thing that I care about but, as my practical mother says, "Money makes the world go round." Everything just comes to a crashing a halt without some serious money to grease the wheels. Just like everybody else on the planet I have to eat, I have to have a place to sleep, etc. etc.

Which Reminds Me

The picacho looks like a mountain peak, but technically speaking it is perhaps apparently not really high enough to qualify as a full-fledged mountain peak which is perhaps why it is termed only a miniature mountain peak, a sort of rocky crag. Oh, I hadn't thought of that. I had just thought that a mountain peak was a mountain peak. But apparently there is more to the terminology of mountain peaks geologically speaking than I had originally thought.

As for that other Chilean business, that was the sole property of the Bueno family. Far be it from me to involve myself in the internal squabblings of those people. I really would prefer not to hear the dreary details of that, thanks anyway. I got enough idea of that already by accident. What, have you no brain in your empty head? It was obvious from the start that the Bueno family had some other emotional disturbance going on that had nothing to do with me. Oh, I didn't know that. Well, perhaps I did inadvertently step in something but mine was not intentional, not warranting such a high level of hysteria. I am just saying. I am the victim in this picture, so why am I punished severely for such a small mote. There wasn't very much to that in the first place so all of this hubbub is so ridiculous.

It is easy for you, Mr. Fat-Cat Rockytop Moneybags, to sit there in your palatial abode decreeing miseries untold upon poor little me, and for what? If I were getting a paycheck that would be one thing, you would have some place to give orders, but even then bosses can be so incredibly unreasonable and make such ridiculous demands. I think that I am not asking too much to demand a living. Truth be told, I can live just fine without some ugly Rocky-Feller Bobble wrapped sucking all the air out of me.

My other option is, well, I could kill myself. That would seem to be the only really viable option open to me at this time. And yet suicide is such a depressing thought. The world would be so empty without my brilliant thoughts sparkling on the page. Ha ha ha!

Which Reminds Me

Do you really think that I am so stupid that I cannot detect your secret deal with the trailer trash Thomson family? Ha ha ha! I refuse to work for the dreary Thomson whiners. Last time I checked I am not receiving a paycheck with the dreary Thomson name attached to it so I owe you absolutely nothing and absolutely nothing is what you will get from me in regards to that. Enough said about the dreary Thomson whiners. Or was it the Kramers? I really can't tell the difference between those people. They just all blur together in my mind.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I haven't forgotten that in maybe 10th grade English class I did an oral book report on Jonathan Swift's "Gulliver's Travels." I am not going to talk about that again, never mind that some obnoxious person is still trying to make some cheapskate points about that. It was just a book that I read, which was published in 1726 by some British, actually Irish smart alecky person who has been dead for quite a while now. Yes, I suppose that I only scratched the surface of that but time is short. I just wouldn't be worth the effort for me to do something more about that.

Which Reminds Me

During high school I and several other girls were invited to try out for Kathy's girls' baseball team. Arriving at the appointed time at the field, I was chosen to go up to bat first. Kathy was pitcher. Kathy pitched hardball while I had previously played only softball. I swung the bat three times and struck out. The other girls following me did not swing the bat and walked, because basically either way Kathy is a very lousy pitcher. And then she never said anything to us. It was just the silent treatment. Yes, if I could do that over again I would decline the invitation in the first place because anyway it just wasn't worth the effort of trying to do that. I might have easily gotten hit by those hardballs gone awry.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, did someone, maybe our English teacher Miss Marken, say something about the poem 'Casey at the Bat'? I don't know why I don't remember anything about that. It just wasn't that important, just a small poem about a baseball player, but I never did care that much about sports.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I always loathed the stupid hospital plan. I prefer to take care of myself, thanks anyway. I always did have ten times more brains than the stupid brainless Crawley bimbo could ever imagine. I plan to leave the hospital plan behind in the dust eventually, whenever I have all my ducks in a row.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does blur the picture to have this evil vampire Steve attached to our family tree. I mean, who knew that Steve was the devil himself? We don't see why Steve's devilish rantings should get so much attention from the public. He just wasn't that important.

Which Reminds Me

So anyway, I can't say that it wouldn't give me pleasure to kick Dolly's stupid white trash butt to the curb because I never asked those stupid foul-mouthed people to interpose their country-fried garbage into my personal life. But anyway I don't see why I should bother myself about Tennessee. I never had any connection whatever to Tennessee, white trash or not white trash. Why should I put myself in harm's way when it was their own instigation in the first place, to answer the idiotic rantings of some stupid trashy foul-mouthed Butterfield bimbo. I just mostly ignore those dreary horrid Butterfield bimbos because they are so full of themselves and not much else. They just think that everything is just all about them which means that everything is just a dreary boring mess. Which is why they never hear from us. Because we have our own lives independent of them.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was weird to be hearing the voice of pompous arrogant Georgie Porgie. I couldn't care less about hobnobbing with those nasty rich people. Wasn't it bad enough to have to be in 9th grade with catty Heather, of whom nothing is known, just that she was immensely rich and nasty. And then you have Georgie Porgie Pudding Pie crowing about the opportunities for me to mingle with white trash Appalachia. I have no connection whatever to white trash Appalachia that I can recall. There is actually no reason whatever that I know of for me to be dialoguing in regards to some stupid white trash bimbo from Tennessee. Only later do I learn that white trash Tennessee is synonymous with catty Heather, of whom nothing is known, or cared about for that matter. We never talked. So?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that it could be interesting to spend a couple of hours browsing through the stacks of the New York Public Library. However, the prospect of being locked inside a crowded theater with some dangerously fanged cheaters prowling about the stage is not so appealing to me. In fact, that terrifies me. Which is why I have yet to experience Broadway in that way. So?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I remember there was much talk about how they want to have uniformity of appearance. Everyone should look pretty much the same, mostly brown and black, after they get done with the remix of the general population. It seems that perhaps none of these white people with garish red hair will pass muster with the Chinese censors of uniformity, although blondes may still have their display niche. The future browning of America seems inevitable with the removal of any barriers to interracial marriage and the influx of immigrants from the much browner countries of Latin America, Africa and Asia, regions already in more advanced stages of browning, the dominant genetic material on this planet. It's called survival of the fittest but it really just means dominant=domination. That works well for people who tan well and already blend easily into the browning milieu. I only sunburn so this plan does not work for me. Blisters and sun poisoning are experiences that I can personally attest to. I don't like this notion that I should feel guilty about being so white when God made me this way. I just can't apologize for something that is so outside of my control. I just think some people are being extremely ridiculous about it.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I never had the slightest connection to the Nixon family per se so I have no idea why I should be expected to care about your big fat Greek wedding. One of our high school classmates had the surname of Nixon but I remember nothing else about him, just that his last name was Nixon, Jimmy Nixon, and that he was maybe a couple of years ahead of us. But anyway the name was not our problem. So anyway, how is all that dirty Greek money working out for you? You were so verbose in reminding me that I should not be expecting the Greek money to help in any way. The big fat Greek money is just all for you and nothing for me. Ok, fine. I wasn't really expecting anything from them anyway, not that I even have any idea what you are talking about. Needless to say, they never do anything helpful. Now there's something that I can count on.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, why do these stupid Lee bimbos get a special deal? I really never have any thought of them and couldn't care less what they do with themselves and their uninteresting lives.

Only because you asked, I vaguely remember at some family event seeing on display a photo of some Chinese woman who at one time in maybe the 1910s was the family maid when they were living in Shanghai. What was her name? What happened to her? I have no idea. So?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, how quickly these Italian whiners forget that it was they themselves who originally laid down the paperwork for the seven hills of Rome. At the time I did not know what that meant, but more recently that picture has been getting into much sharper focus. So basically Italy and the Hills are planning to rob me blind. That's what that means to me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is hard to imagine that someday there might come a time when I might actually have some real paperwork in my hands with which to dispose of these matters in a most efficient way as I see fit. However, I have no idea when that time might come. As yet, my parents are showing no signs of kicking the bucket. Why would I want to rush these events to a conclusion before the proper time? In the meantime, if I should be fortunate enough to live that long, I think that I should be able to live a normal life not harassed by these annoying Italian whiners. When push comes to shove, they will just be out in the cold with nothing to show for all their harassment of me. My personal business is none of their business. Just because Heather made some weird comment on the first day of high school, that was not law to me. That was nothing.