Which Reminds Me

Yes, I too noticed how vulgar horrid Lisa is all wound up like a top. What got her all puffed up and stuck to the ceiling I have no idea, but it does get annoying to be detecting the same old recycled and worn-out jokes over and over again from the same or similar sources because obviously they have no new material to work with. I have been very careful to mostly avoid socializing with the worthless white trash Moureclaydian gang. I don't recall ever inviting them to my house or discussing anything of a personal nature with them that they should be imagining that I owe them something. I prefer not to be dragged down to the low level of Clay. I have been very careful to avoid the wicked people of Louisiana, where the wicked depravities of Mr. Wolsey have so far seemed to go undetected by law enforcement.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was talking about the nun who was teaching a class at our high school. I never saw the nun or took that class myself. I cannot remember what was said about the nun. I really have no opinion on the subject of that specific nun. I sort of feel sorry for these nuns. They never get a break from their own rude and boorish Irish Catholics who cruelly abuse and mistreat them, so why should I gratuitously add to the burden that their own religion and social structure compels them to bear? Yes, I think that I do not remember what the students complaints were as regards to the nun.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I remember that someone was talking about the Methodist church denomination and how in America there was a political split between the north and south, reminiscent of civil war associations. Yes, well, there was a civil war in the 1860s, although the generations of that conflict are all gone now and the lines are somewhat blurred from what they used to be. I never had strong feelings about that. The McClellans were dissenting Unionists in the Rebel state of Texas. How could that be? How can you protest the Confederate policies when you have to obey the government at the same time? Yes, life gets complicated.

Which Reminds Me

What is the matter, Mr. Gardner? Don't you have any brains? What's the matter? Stuck kissing that horrible Irene Void? Why should I care about the stupid Void family. That is not my problem. My surname is spelled C-a-l-k-i-n-s, NOT E-l-k-i-n-s. I do not think that we are related, needless to say. All KINS might be related if only you could track us all back to the original Garden (of Eden, that is), but there is no point to be made in this regard, other than to unnecessarily harass poor me. I do not deserve this level of harassment.

Which Reminds Me

If you were expecting The Widener Foundation to pick up the tab for all your depravities. you might be disappointed. It is not so easy to apply for welfare assistance from rich people. Where is the website to submit your request? No, you have to know them. They have to know you personally. You have to be their friend or recommended by their friends. You have to be in Philadelphia. Yes, never. Never. There is nothing in Pennsylvania worth mentioning if all you want is attention of The Widener Foundation.

Which Reminds Me

Our high school mascot was a Trojan, but someone was saying that there were some people who, not wanting to be considered losers of the Trojan War, preferred to call themselves the Spartans. The Spartans beat the Persians. Yes, I suppose a broken clock is right once or twice a day. But I don't remember who they were. And then someone was saying that the Spartans were combative to a suicidal extent, and then later Latins beat the Greeks and what was left of the Spartans. And the Latins and/or Romans still think they have the upper hand, that their job is to conquer us. I do not think that I need that. But of course, if you insist on the conquering role, I could always evacuate the planet and leave things at your disposal. That seems the Christian way to walk the extra mile. Let us see how you deal with the migratory crises. Don't be expecting me to say something about that. You are expected to govern yourselves in an appropriate way, but I am not allowed to be the judge of that.

Which Reminds Me

There was a missionary to China by the name of Dixon, not to be confused with Eleanor Dixon, the heiress of the famous Widener family of Pennsylvania, whose father died in the Titanic shipwreck, not to be confused with the Weidmans who were missionaries in Africa. Although these factoids do not tell me anything. I don't know anything about it. I never noticed that.

Which Reminds Me

I do not appreciate being continuously insulted by inarticulate Witches of various geographical orientations. If you have a specific comment or guestion fine, but just to pull on my leg and ambush me with various humiliations is not a nice thing for you to do, needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I see that you wish to stage some sort of “Gone with the Wind” scenario in which I am to cry and bemoan my fate in the role of Scarlett, thus to cry out in despair, “What am I going to do?” after being abandoned by Rhett Butler, thus tominvite his further contempt: “Frankly my dear ....” Except that this role does not fit me at all. I feel myself utterly indifferent to the dreary bores of Atlanta. I doubt that I would ever go there just to be thus insulted. Perhaps you have mistaken me for Sharon, whose conniving ways are more clearly in view than ever, thank you very much. Is Sharon angling to kiss Ted’s butt? Your guess would be as good as mine in this matter.

Which Reminds Me

We wish to avoid getting stuck in the bog.

The only thing I know about Samuel Sokobin is that he once signed my great-grandfather's passport application at Shanghai. The validity of the U.S. passport cannot be questioned, never mind about Sokobin's personal domestic situation. He was a Jewish man who married an Irish woman. Even so, these domestic facts are of little or no concern to those persons whose passports were signed by the man at work. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Something happened in 1916 to my great-grandfather while he was in China because later, in 1917, he had to apply at Shanghai for a new passport, his application signed by Samuel Sokobin, who was an American vice consul there at the time.

In contrast, the consular registration application of Carl Weaks in 1916 is signed by Lester ?, also a vice consul. How can that be? Could it be that there was a personal shift at the U.S. consulate between 1916 and 1917? If Carmen was fired, well, that would make perfect sense. But what do you know? You have no access to personnel files of U.S. consulates. la di da. There you go again, chanting "Weaks, Weaks, Weaks," as if that meant something.

Thus we see an entirely useless widget was created that does nothing helpful or useful, only adds to the confusion of persons who now imagine that Carl Weaks has somg connection to this story when actually, no, we have no idea who this Carl Weaks might be, at least not that we know of.

And how can I fill in all these blanks if there is no access to the real story? No, we are continually tormented by stupid widgets that contribute nothing to the understanding of the true meaning of the story, created by persons who do not wish me well. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

How stupid all you people are, thus to glorify the stupid bimbo of Titanic movie fame! Did her mother never teach her anything?

Which Reminds Me

I cannot be expected to keep track of all these people. Whose Titanic car is that rusting at the bottom of the sea? I can only be certain that it doen't belong to me.

Which Reminds Me

I see that a few years ago I was doing some research on Carl Weaks. I seem to have forgotten who was Carl Weaks and why would I be looking up such people who also were in China, Shanghai and Hong Kong, at about the same time that my great-grandparents were there, later dying in Nashville, Tenn., in 1957? Could it be that Mr. Weaks also applied for a passport at Shanghai? Yes, you can do that, apparently. You probably should register with the U.S. consul so they know that you are there in case your dead body is found somewhere lying about or in case you inadvertently trigger some strange international incident or something. Even so, we never had the slightest connection to Carl Weaks and whatever he was doing in China, at least not that I know of. Hundreds of Americans were coming and going in Shanghai at the time. I cannot be expected to explain what all these people are doing here.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I am so clueless. In fourth grade I still sort of believed in Santa Claus but the Davenport children, Cheryl and David, corrected us on this point, informing us point blank that there is no Santa Claus. All of that nonsense of the hot chocolate and cookies disappearing overnight is so ridiculous, they told us. All those gifts labeled 'From Santa' are from your parents, you dummies.

Which Reminds Me

At a time when I was living in Southern California, I once attended a creative writing class. A short story called "The Lottery" was featured as an important example of American fiction, which it unarguably is, if fiction is what you are into. I cannot remember what projects I did for that class if any. I don't remember very much about that class or why this "Lottery" theme continues so persistently so many years later. Very strange.

Which Reminds Me

Hey, wasn't Judas Iscariot the bad guy who betrayed Jesus in the New Testament story? He had his hand in the till, it was said, withdrawing sums for his own purposes, and then sold himself out as an informant, and then later hanged himself. Which leaves an open-ended question of whatever happened to the money? Not the Potter's field money from 30 pieces of silver. We mean the other money that Judas had previously tended, whatever donations or gifts of gold from the Magi or something along those lines. With the accountant Judas gone, they will need to find a replacement to take over that job position, but the record is ambiguous. Was it Bartholomew or Nathaniel who was elected to the job? How did they finance the Bartholomew's Fair? But that was a thousand years later. And why should I trouble myself about this question? Aren't the churches of Europe swimming in surplus money? I am sure they have many eminently qualified persons to account for the money without some chatterbox commentaries from me or some other annoying persons, thank you very much.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the game those girls are playing has something to do with a Persian harem scenario in which there is only one man to 20 or 30 women, all trying to trick the lowest ranking courtesan out of any presumption of having a husband all to herself. Or something like that. Because they are trashy horrid girls, needless to say. Why would I want to talk about that? I don't want to be a character in their private fiction, needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a very dangerous thing to attempt the navigation through the Straits of Magellan. Coming round the bend I think I see over there David's lifeless corpse skewered on the jagged rocks. Hmm... He must have crashed himself somehow. Sad. Which brings to mind a word to the wise: Translate first. Only later, after translation, can you see your way clear to steer around all those perilous rocks.

Which Reminds Me

And where is your certificate of Chinese studies and/or fluency in the Chinese language? You are disqualified from srving, being even more clueless than I am, although that is not saying much. You are not prepared to tackle this most difficult topic. Your rowing machine is a piece of fictional junk, nothing more. I was disabused of this fiction bent at an early age. The truth will not bear it. We must have the historical record first. No fictional account will work without a historical framework in view. You could be rowing yourselves straight to ORU Hell and not even know it. I do not want my story told by some clueless chatterbox from ORU Hell, needless to say. Be content with your Broadway consolation prize because that is all you can get. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

I vaguely remember that during college at SCC one year there appeared a girl who was a backup singer for famous rock bands and had already recorded her own music album. I don't know whether she was there beyond one semester. She seemed to disappear quickly from the college scene. I don't remember her name. I only remember some scathing remarks that Barbara Kraiss, the wife of the college president, said in regards to her. That is the only thing that I can remember about that, just something that Barbara said. But it makes sense that she could not make it in college. When it comes to the arts, you really cannot do much there if you are not plugged into the AG system.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was talking about Rochester, the city in upstate New York which was the location of Elizabeth V. Baker's ministry in the late 1800s and early 1900s. She died in 1915, so it has been about 100 years since the five Duncan sisters were running the Pentecostal show in Rochester. Not much is left of that, just some copies of a defunct magazine, "Trust," and some buildings they left behind. No one living can remember who they were, or, well, at least I had never heard of them until you were saying something about that. And your point was?

Which Reminds Me

The other plot line that was thrown at me was that of the hated rich girl, even though I have not that much play money to work with except when playing the "Monopoly" board game. Which makes me wonder who is this wicked rich girl. And then I have to bankrupt myself to figure out what they are even talking about, and even so, I still don't get it. So what? I know who I am even if the people don't have a clue. Which is sad but when I do not have two dimes to rub together, I really cannot help you with that.

In Latin America, many of the poor people automatically think that all white people are rich, based on superficial appearances, even though it is not so. But I really would prefer not to have to elaborate on that point.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do remember that I wrote a fictional short story when I was 10 years old. It was sort of inspired by the plot of the novel 'Heidi,' which I had read at Grandma Calkins' house. At the time, there happened to be a man visiting our house in El Salvador, Jack Garlick, who lives in Ecuador. I must have showed it to him because he read it and said that it was great and to mail it to the GPH for possible publication in the Sunday School papers. Well, I actually never sent it anywhere. I am only 10 years old and I don't feel confident that my story would be that good. But apparently Jack went home to Ecuador and made some arrangements in regards to my future writing career, even though I am only 10 years old and am not sure whether I will ever feel confident enough to write another thing. Also, I don't work for the Garlick family. Nor do I work for Ecuador. It is really none of Carol Garlick's business what I do with the rest of my life. I can't have them running me around in circles. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, some people may be asking how all this deadly poison emanated from a cranium the size of a snake. Well, that's just how it is. And you were asking me to stick my hand in the cage that houses all of those evil snakes and vipers so eulogized with national honors. Well, guess what, I am not that stupid.

Which Reminds Me

The question remains as to what did Mr. Longwell do with all the money that he took from Dr. Riffle-Raffle. I do not have any idea why I should care about that. It seems to me that the money belonged to Dr. Riffle-Raffle so that was his problem, not mine. Dr. Riffle-Raffle can do whatever he wants with his money but that was no concern of mine. What else happened in regards to that is not clear to me.

Which Reminds Me

My great-great-grandmother was Amanda Melvina Fitzallen Moore (1827-1882), but you already knew that if you have your own copy of ye old family history book.

Which Reminds Me

It would be interesting to hear the real story about that, but until we get the corrected paperwork in hand we can only regurgitate what has already been done before us.

Which Reminds Me

Dr. Riffle-Raffle belonged to an unusual sect of Catholicism. Which reminds me that the Catholic voice was heard online saying that they are planning a hit on the Freemasons, or something along that lines. Hmmm.... So? We are not Freemasons so why are you putting us in jail? And another one of our accusers is Mr. Schmidt, who is well known among the Freemasons. So are you just saying that to obsfucate your true intentions of helping the Freemasons? Does not compute.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, we are amazed at the generosity of Dr. Riffle-Raffle. Whenever Samuel Longwell, a lowly cook at a hotel in Los Angeles, although I am only guessing on his occupation, happened to be visiting San Francisco, which occurred at frequent intervals, he would stop in for tea at Dr. Riffle-Raffle's place. Dr. Riffle-Raffle seems to have kindly donated large chunks of cash to whatever the cause might be that Longwell was promoting at the time. Whatever happened later is less clear. Why did Dr. Riffle-Raffle suddenly turn so hostile and forget about his previous generosity? Why did Mr. Longwell forget to tell us about this secret meetings? We will have to bring Mr. Longwell to court to explain himself, if he can.

Which Reminds Me

Maybe you could explain to us about this secret deal that you made with the backstabbing traitors of ORU Hell, steered by that celebritous drunk driver. I personally could not care less about ORU. Those people are not our friends. They just want to win at any cost, even if that means killing us, so obviously that is not going to work for me.

What reasonable dialogue could I possibly have with this wicked Mr. Samuel-Wray-Longwell-Riffle-Raffle? He was sentenced to a year in the San Francisco jail for unloading the vault in dramatic style, and yet who knows if he actually spent time in jail or got off on some technicality.

Not to be confused with Dr. Riffle's friend Earl, who did time at Sing-Sing on other charges. Not to be confused with Earl, Cousin Mildred's husband.

I am confused now. What are you saying, that I should pay the penalty for Samuel's criminal activities? Who is on trial? What are you asking? No, you didn't ask, you just jumped to conclusions without double-checking your facts, never producing the missing paperwork. So what? Why should we care about obscure events of 1950?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I know, you just think that my whole life is a huge joke.

Even so, for the sake of continuing the scripted routine:

Why is this wonton Rowing bimbo always screaming in my face? I didn't even know these people existed. Helen who? Harvey who? Yes, you can win by lies and deceits and/or conceits, obviously, but you cannot really keep that forever. Did you really win the game or did you just kick the can down the road? They will catch you eventually if you cannot find a way to get off your high horse voluntarily, even if I may not live long enough to see that. I sometimes think I hear echoes of Cindy Hurd's wicked butt sizzling on the grill. Was she your third cousin or something? Since when do I have to show my report card to the trashy Herd bimbos of Michigan? I have no connection to Michigan. Does not compute.

Anyway, it is not my fault that Stephanie sold herself a slave of the stupid Rowing Machine. Row row row. It never stops until death do us part, as the saying goes. And why should I waste my talents on some cheapskate junky low-class Montgomery Ward department store? They went out of business long ago. You have your place although I cannot say that I was even aware of your existence until recently, and even so, why should I care about that? What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up into a frothy wrath about nothing? The Bible tells me to keep my eyes on the prize of the high calling of God. I don't take my orders from some wicked Rowing Machine bimbo. Needless to say

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that during my first year of college at SCC there was some person named Vanessa who lived down the hall, on the same floor. She was a horribly wicked nightclubbing type of person, totally out of place in our Christian college. What is this snarky Vanessa doing at our college. She doesn't belong here.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember having made the acquaintance of some Moore people, but I haven't seen them for nearly 30 years now. After they so cruelly stabbed me in the back, it would be hard for them to come back around pretending to still be friends of mine. The double-crossing of Joy is too public now for them to continue the dissimulation so there is nothing further that I would need to say about that. I have other things to do than worry about than those insignificant former acquaintances.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, thanks! So now we all have to sit here and listen to the mediocrities of caterwauling Dana Heinriks because she is so aggressive. But Johnny died quite a while ago so Dana will have to find herself another booking agent because nobody else really cared enough to do that.

Which Reminds Me

The last time I saw Lois was several years ago, she was here at our house and the only thing that she talked about that I can recall is how she was carrying on about how she wanted to stop somewhere to buy a douche. Strange, but then again Lois is sort of weird.

Which Reminds Me

And why should I be required to eat the vomitings of those filthy Mexican "Bueno" pigs? Stay in your own Mexican pig sty, you worthless "Bueno" pigs. It is a very long way down to Mexico. Yes, that might be something to think of, although I had never thought of saying that, but not a Christian message that anyone would allow to be broadcast on their channel, probably. We must have pity and compassion upon these alien Mexican creatures even though we would prefer not to be contaminated by their unexplained mental aberrations.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it was often said of Cousin Gradin that he was always seeking, never finding. Although we once visited their house in Palm Springs when I was a child, I do not remember one thing about him. However, I have often heard the voice of his daughter Stephanie circulating in the ozone layer. She was said to be a very talented painter/artist, but with such uniquely Bohemian-style parents as hers were said to be, she cannot be said to represent the rest of the family, generally speaking. Her voice does not necessarily represent anything that we would think of saying about that, although it is said that her paintings are very successful in terms of art marketing. Whether Cousin Gradin ever found the ultimate solution that he was seeking, we really cannot say. He died and we just won't know in this lifetime whether he ever proved the Cherokee theory to anyone's satisfaction. Even so, we cannot just shove the right answers down people's throats. We must allow them in every generation to make their own decisions on whom they will serve, for better or for worse. You must decide for yourself whether to serve God or whether to serve Waldara. We really wouldn't know anything about that. Why would we?

Which Reminds Me

We are constantly amazed at the greedy, gold-digging opportunism of you. How did you manage to weasel your way into a minor language mishap and turn it into a World War III scenario? Only one thing is certain to me, the Buenos do not deserve such a high level of protection against the consequences of their own stupidity. At least not in my opinion. But I am not allowed to say that. I have to just walk the extra mile because they are too powerful for me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, needless to say, the entire burden of guilt rests upon them. There is no way the "Bueno" family can shirk their responsibility for slangily delving into Chilean politics of an unsavory nature. I certainly never did that.

Which Reminds Me

When I finally get through cleaning Max's broken clock, those Mexican dogs will have nothing to do but cringe in shame and slink away in disgrace, their tails tucked away, because Max is lying. Why can't Max just tell the truth in a straightforward way without trying to incriminate me at every step? That is not how it happened. Needless to say.

But how mean of me to say that? Am I not supposed to turn the other cheek and not take a Christian brother all the way to the courthouse? But if you want war....

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I agree to clean my own bathroom. As long as you are only a guest so you are not allowed to do that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I remember confessing that I rather like malted milk balls, chocolate-coated of course, although the occasions of eating them are few.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely recall Gene Napier, who was a co-worker when I was living and working in California, but later he quit and he and his wife moved up north to Stockton. At another time I was visiting my relatives in that area before leaving California and I saw Gene and his wife walking in a parking lot outside of Stockton. I was with my cousin Richard. So that chance encounter was a bit shocking. How often do you ever run into people you know from work outside of a supermarket? Coincidentally, I am pretty sure I have some other distant relatives who live in the Modesto/Stockton area but I haven't seen them in many years.

Which Reminds Me

As a small child I remember my grandfather McClellan telling me the story of how George Washington as a child chopped down the cherry tree and when confronted with his wrongdoing, was forced to confess because "I cannot tell a lie." George Washington's devotion to telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth propelled him to the presidency of the United States. And wouldn't I like to make such a vow? Well, I cannot say wholeheartedly that I deserve to try to fill George Washington's shoes. I cannot remember, when did I lie to you? We never even talked so obviously that never happened.

Which Reminds Me

Why, you wicked sinners, how dare you accuse me of something that I did not do! What I only saw in slide show pictures or read of in books, you actually did, so you cannot later really presume to be so self-righteous, when you probably know better than I how you cobbled together some false accusations, always at my expense.

Unless I could somehow be convicted of guilt by association. Jesus associated with sinners and yet was considered as perfect and sinless. But he was the Son of God. It is not so easy for a mere mortal girl to associate with these vulgar hideous people and then later be able to shake off the filth of them without a blemish on my complexion.

But then again I am under so much pressure to have a social life. 

Which Reminds Me

How many times do I have to explain that I am not interested in taking Sylvia's job? Mountain landscapes are a beautiful thing but you don't seem to enjoy the scenery so we cannot engage in further dialogue with such a pathetically stupid person.

Which Reminds Me

Of course, we could not care less about the idiotic rantings of the Reeces. Everything that the Reeces have they got because space cadet Lori was cross-dating that Italian creep Tony, a Roman Catholic who couldn't care less about our interests. We are Protestant missionary kids. We are not supposed to be socializing that much with Catholics. That could really throw off the balance of power if we ceded all our power to the Reeces or the SanGios, either one. I don't take my orders from the Reeces, needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there was only that joke that Michael O'Farrell made about Mata Hari in 10th grade English class, while we were working on a group project, I might have laughed thinking that it was a joke but then Marta Brizuela who was also in our group responded in a rather sharply angry way, which is not surprising as Martha is a very cranky person most of the time. And then later there was also something that maybe Ivonne explained about how Mata Hari was somehow attached to their family, although I don't remember the details of that. Sounded complicated. With them being such prickly pears, that is not a subject that I would want to initiate. I only remember something that I was told, although not you.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, we are constantly amazed at your intimate familiarity with the trashy exploits of that vampy spy of World War I, Mata Hari. Oh, you are saying that Mata Hari was your grandmother? Well, I really wouldn't know that, would I? No one would be able to guess that just from looking at your vampy milk maid face. We would have to do some research to really pinpoint what that was all about.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that in first or second grade I and a friend, David, crawled into the barrel on the playground, from opposite ends, and kissed in the middle. There is really nothing more to tell about that. I moved away after second grade so have no idea what happened to all those people. I don't remember their last names. It would be pointless to try to find them later and they would never be able to find me now. I certainly hope not.

Which Reminds Me

Of course, my Dad also has two other uncles and an aunt on the Calkins side of the family but that is a completely different story.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I have noticed recently that some people are dropping many clues about "Ben." They are fascinated with the name of "Ben." Ben Ben Ben. Which seems odd to me.

Yes, in reading the diaries of great-grandmother we read numerous mentions of my Dad's Uncle Ben, whose career was actually working on ships and was often gone to sea, sailing as a crew member of some type of ship, but at times when his ship was in port at San Diego he would stop in Oceanside to visit his mother and his sisters, one of whom was my grandmother, although he actually resided somewhere in Northern California. The diary mentions that he had a son and daughter whom I never met. I really never knew these people existed until I read the diaries, but my parents say that he once visited them in Florida with his second wife, a Puerto Rican woman, although I was not there at the time and never met them.

My Dad had four uncles—Ben, Sam, Joe, and Ariel—and two aunts—Julia and Olive. There were possibly two other children who died in infancy—Philip and Anna.

So anyway, Ben is gone now and his second wife also. Ben died and he will not be sailing the seas again so you will need to find some other source of interest to occupy your waking hours. This obsessive preoccupation with Ben is getting too weird. What is your problem? Where is all this missing paperwork that I never saw? It would be interesting to see that so that at least I could get some idea of what you are talking about. What is this paper weapon that you are using to kill us?

Which Reminds Me

What, no remedy at law? You would prefer to have all the benefits exclusively for yourself, omitting to pay the bill for all these services which required so much time and effort to fulfill. In thus protesting too much, we see that you never were a sincere contractor and/or player to start with. It was all staged this way to leave us dangling on a broken branch, thus breaching the faith of millions in masquerading as an advocate of the poor, thus to fatten your own pocketbook at our expense.

And should we repay your evil with more evil, perhaps hiring some goon to put a bullet through Kim's empty Porto Rican head? No, that would not be an appropriate remedy for a Christian, as we endeavor to follow the teachings of Christ himself as best we can. 

We must turn the other cheek and let them kill us first, hoping that in eternity somehow things will work out for the better eventually. Thus we must let this lather of Puerto Rican wrath exhaust itself until the fury of Kim is spent.

Or else we could have a war, which would be so messy and the outcome of such uncertain and dubious benefit to us. They would just kill us before we even knew what happened, thus rendering our interests a worthless futility.

So this seems to me a Lose-Lose situation. What do you want from me? I have no interest in fighting against you. You are boring. There is nothing to be gained from engaging in a stupid dialogue in which you cannot be trusted to deal with us in good faith, as you have already demonstrated so clearly.

Which Reminds Me

Are we confused or what? What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?

The courthouse of San Francisco is not an appropriate place to be prosecuting people for their religious beliefs and personal opinions, one would think. If you don't like something or cannot agree on various points of religion, fine. But the People of San Francisco should not be overflowing the boundaries of their limited jurisdiction in order to carry out someone's personal vendetta, one would think.

If you wanted to fire him as your agent that would be one thing. But to prosecute for not having a license to sell financial securities, all the while not providing one shred of evidence that any transaction or exchange of money for services ever took place, forces us to ask on what hatrack you left your head.

You describe numerous extractions of money from San Francisco, but in prosecuting that as robbery, you render the value of any potential investment at $0.

So you are left with nothing. You are just a big fat zero. So thank you very much for, what? Nothing? I don't understand. You are nobody that I ever heard of until I read the diaries.

Which Reminds Me

Does your figure seem less than Greek? Does Miss Lilian Pilarinos feel like she is the spare tire in a world made for pairs? I cannot remember who originally said that, but anyway it is probably a true thing to say, if not the most diplomatic way of saying it. And then Miss Pilarinos was targeting me because I repeated that somewhere, but whatever. I have no reason to dialogue further with her or present any answer. I really don't care that much. There are also some advantages to going solo and thus allowing my own voice to shine the better. Whenever I think of what they are I will try to get back to you on that.

Which Reminds Me

You seem to be overestimating my familiarity with the wanton hoes of Louisiana. To be locked into Jimmy's Jukebox is not my idea of something to do with the rest of my life. There might be a Red Stick somewhere but it does not belong to you. I do not know one thing about that other than what can be read in newspapers. Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone who once called me on the telephone. Her name was Alana. She seemed to be well connected to the Swagggering Poppycocks riff-raff of Louisiana. But I only know that probably not even the half has yet been told about that.

Which Reminds Me

I really am such a good person, at least in my own opinion, so smart, so intelligent, never mind about the prewritten script in which you have appointed unto me the role of bad girl. Which is why every year I do less and less to cooperate with your lousy script, do more and more to ignore the insignificance of your pathetically worthless existence, because you just don't work for me, do you? So at least we can agree on that point.

Which Reminds Me

Q. Yes, I remember that you were saying that you had almost imagined me to be the alpaca skin hanging on the wall of your house. How else could I happen to overhear your private conversation.

A. What private conversation are you referring to? I only know that I was not there at the time. No, I am not the alpaca skin hanging on the wall. Perhaps you have mistaken me for one of your maids. And if you protest too much everyone will want to know more about this private conversation and its contents. What is your problem?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that it must be awkward for you to be the representative of Arkansas, that webbering state which is the cesspool or nadir of the universe. There is no high ground to be found in Arkansas, that much is fairly certain. Beyond that I have nothing to contribute. I prefer to let the mental health professionals continue their work in the reforming of Arkansas, if it be possible to prevent that place from being swallowed by a sinkhole or some other peril on the Mississippi River.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I wonder what makes the webber skunks of Arkansas imagine that I would ever want to talk to them? I vaguely recall once being introduced to Pastor Webber by my grandfather at another time in another place, but that was a long time ago and that era is over and done with. The State of Arkansas has not one speck of high ground so do not be imagining that I would want to renew that insignificant acquaintance. I only know that I do not know the half of it. There will be plenty of time in eternity or in Arkansas for the webbers to explain themselves, but that was not my problem.

The diaries of great-grandmother describe how he dropped off some church people at the San Diego Zoo and then reappeared a few hours later to take them home, but we are not there waiting in San Diego to hear more about that. We are long gone from there and not planning to return.

Which Reminds Me

I seem to remember that everyone was disgusted with the horribly wicked behavior and ridiculously stupid sayings of Linda, although I don't really know the details of that, just something that I overheard somewhere. Thanks, Linda, for giving us such horribly worthless cousins. Now I would have to kill them all except that nobody is going to help me with that, and besides it would be so messy and illegal, and then that would give everyone an excuse to hate me and blame me for whatever horribly wicked and pathetically stupid things they were doing while I was out of the country. No, I think that I will not do that. I will just sit back and watch those wicked back-stabbers reap the rewards of their own bad behavior without any help from me, because anyway they never did anything to help me that I can recall.

Which Reminds Me

At Lois' house in El Salvador, there were decorative llama skins hanging on the walls. Or was it alpaca? How many South American critters must have died to satisfy these decorative urges? I cannot answer these questions. The animal kingdom is just there to serve mankind in whatever ways can be concocted to satisfy the prurient curiosity of some other observers of dubious cooking skill.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that someone was talking about the unusual case of Tibet and how someone is bothered that Dr. Wood is perhaps acquainted with the Dalai Lama, and also something about the Flames of Fire. Ummm.... That would all be news to me. I am not very informed about the details of Christianity in Tibet in the years before it was overrun by Communist China, which would be shortly after WWII. I have nothing to add to the Tibetan commentary that would add any new light to whatever someone was saying about that.

Samuel, or his representative, thinks that Dr. Wood is the enemy but I really don't know what he means by that. Samuel is Foursquare which is a whole different story. I am sure that I do not know the half of it. 

Which Reminds Me

I vaguely remember that someone was asking me to fill in all these missing words.

"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" was a book that we studied in high school English class with Miss Marken. The character of Nurse Ratched is portrayed in a harsh light even if she was only doing her job in her control freak sort of way. She won the contest of wills in battle with the medicated wretches of the Mental ward, removing their dignity and relieving them of any autonomous sense of need or obligation to do something about that. Even so, the example of Nurse Ratched does not inspire one to pursue any career in the field of heath care professional. I suppose that some people have to do that sort of thing at work but that was no my job.

Which Reminds Me

Hey, why can't I get copies of all that other paperwork that is so obliquely referred to by various sources? You can just cc to CC. My initials are CC, that is without my middle name. Which reminds me that years ago when I was working at Vida Publishers, someone, whether Pam or Carol Long I am not sure, was complaining that it wasn't fair that my initials are CC. She said that it makes it seem that I am trying to deceive everyone into thinking that I am entitled to copies of everything. Which is a completely unfair accusation. My initials are an indelible part of my identity that cannot be altered just to accommodate the Michigan riff-raff.

Which Reminds Me

I was talking to Dauna K and trying to be sympathetic. Yes, it is depressing to be designated an "it" I can sort of imagine, although actually I got some wires crossed in my head, someone else was talking about that previously although I cannot remember the details of that. It wasn't any big deal, just trying to be conversational. There is not much to "it" to explain. What do you want Dauna? You are so horrible. What are you fishing for, you vulgar hideous slob?

Which Reminds Me

You ask me if I did "it" and I continue to explain that I do not understand this question. What are you asking me? What did I do? What did you imagine that I did? What do you mean by "it"? I don't understand what you mean by asking me such an irrational and irrelevant question.

Which Reminds Me

I heard the voice of the Harvey hoe from Arkansas circulating in the ozone layer. She was talking as if there were a contest between us which she won, although I was not aware of myself competing with her during college. She was just a boring person from Arkansas. At one time she was seen to be dating Tim Delorto, a trumpet player, but apparently that did not last very long. So? Arkansas people come to Californiaa thinking that they are going to fix everything but actually it is more complicated than anything that Barbara's tiny little mind could possibly comprehend, or I would be able to explain in a few short words. I have not much patience for them.

Which Reminds Me

We were not aware of the existence of the Rowings, and even so, so what? Easy for you to sit there living in your own private methodically inefficient bubble and never have to face the fact that you are really not that good, not really anybody that important, that this was all a bad dream and there is no easy way to escape your own evil reflection. You might even be sucking face with the wicked Mr. Longwell, which only makes your rotten behavior even more incredible. Which planet did you say you are from?

Which Reminds Me

Thanks for letting me tell my story.

Which Reminds Me

Greetings to you people in Magazine Junkland! Are you feeling blue, having sold out your souls to Massachusetts? Yes, I remember that Dauna K. from college said she is somehow connected to the Kopekny gang, which is another reason to avoid discussing party politics with her. We prefer not to be drawn into arguments about the electoral prospects of them. We have no comment and no connection to the Ticket of 2032. Who knows how things might change in the next decade and how deeply blue the map of New York will get? Oh, it is already blue most of the time. So? Don't be putting your whole faith in party politics. You will just be disappointed either way if you have too many expectations about politics.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I am really not a big fan of Tennessee partly because country music is not my thing. The good songs are few, most of the country having gone from bad to worse. There are other reasons, also, why I really would prefer not to go there, at least not to live. I don't want Tennessee riding my back. Get off my back, Tennessee. I am warning you, Tennessee, get off my back.

Which Reminds Me

Where in the law is it written that I must answer for all the crazy things that my relatives and cousins have said or done? What a headache. I sort of can understand the frustration of speaking out in anger at being falsely accused by annoying people, but anyway we would prefer to NOT be forced to sink to the level of those other people who reflexively use words demeaning and degrading to women because they apparently have no other vocabulary and also because they never THINK. They just emotionally burst out into strings of robotically designated wordings because, whatever, I don't know why they do that. Am I the doctor of philosophy who can explain all conundrums of human existence from the beginning of time to the present? No, I think that I do not have that information readily at my fingertips. Sorry about that.

Which Reminds Me

Once upon a time, many years ago, my Aunt Cindy was telling me that she had berated some woman who had apparently made a pass at her husband Steve. For the record, I don't know who she was, just some people they were visiting on the East Coast. I only know that I was not there at the time. For more information about that, call Cindy. I have nothing more than what she said about that. 

Which Reminds Me

It is well known that my mother had an Aunt Madge, who was my grandmother's youngest sister, and her husband was my mother's Uncle John. It is less well known that my grandmother also had a brother named John, although he is rarely referred to, and only as Uncle Cecil, called by his middle name. He died in 1966. One assumes that my mother's Uncle Cecil, who was married to Myrtle G. Smith b. 1896, probably has some descendants living somewhere on the planet although I have no idea where they might be. I never had any contact with those people and do not know one thing about them.

Yes, I suppose that genealogy research might turn up some informational tidbits, but even so I have no idea why I should care about that. Our paths have never crossed in all these years, so perhaps we will never know what happened to them.Tracking them down is not high on our list of priority tasks.

Which Reminds Me

What makes you think that I would want to be socialized by these dreary boring Sicilians? Well, you can't pick your relatives or your high school classmates. They clutter my place uninvited with their Sicilian junk, and then expect me to clean up their mess later. I don't speak Sicilian language so I cannot do that, not that I speak Maltese either. That is just not my problem. I doubt that I would ever go there, even though the hot and dry Mediterranean climate might be similar to that of Southern California.

Which Reminds Me

I hope you were not seriously expecting me to work with that boring Bill. He is an egg-sucking reptilian who sits there at his drum set secreting his poison through the back door. I just want my own life without Bill's minions crawling about in that hostile way of theirs.

Which Reminds Me

Coulda Shoulda Woulda

Yes, it is true that there are many other things that I could have done differently throughout my life and especially during high school. I have often said so myself. And yet it is clear that the deck was stacked against me from an early age. I cannot be condemned for not doing what was impossible for me to do. So all this drama is just so much window dressing all for their benefit. They never do anything that would be helpful to me. They always make it seem like it was all my fault. They always lead me along until they can catch me off guard and then stab me in the back. So obviously the game is rigged against me and my only choice is to lose graciously rather than to lose by throwing a petulant temper tantrum.

Which Reminds Me

Although I may buy a new car someday, I doubt somehow that I would ever buy a Hummer. I don't think that anyone would appreciate me cluttering up the front driveway with one of those clattering over-sized unsightly junky looking machines, even if it does have four wheels and runs with automatic transmission. Which is otherwise all I really need in a car. But anyway a choice of car is too personal to discuss with Hummer salespeople.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember studying K, first and second grade at that Lutheran school in San Bernardino, where in second grade I won the spelling bee. I still have the trophy on a shelf and nothing you do can change that simple fact. I won the spelling bee because I spelled "Thanksgiving" correctly, the third grade boy having omitted the "s." Sorry but that is an unalterable fact of history that none of your machinations can erase. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

I vaguely remember that when I was studying journalism, I wrote for the student newspaper an article about the need for healthcare reform. But that was in maybe 1988. I haven't thought about health care reform since that time. Health care reform is not a personal cause for me, just one of those perennial issues that will just probably always be with us in some form or another. Politicians will probably be tinkering with the healthcare system to fix some aspect of another of it a hundred years from now. Which reminds me, when I was visiting my aunt and uncle in California they were talking about Obama in a way that makes us think they are really impressed with him. They said that he attended a college in California and seemed to know something about that. However, what the precise nature of their personal connection to Obama might be I have no idea. I don't share their extreme leftist brownie ideals, but in trying to get along with the relatives, one does not delve deeply into matters of religion or politics. We don't necessarily agree with them on political matters but really it is better to avoid arguments with them because we probably don't agree with them on political matters. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is fairly clear in retrospect that Mrs. Moore does not have my back, all that scheming behind my back is not yet clear to me, needless to say, so obviously I do not have hers either. But shouldn't we just put them away quietly without a huge public fuss? I have to pay for that and then they just stab me in the back later so why dignify their self-seeking attention-grabbing nonsense with further discussion? We will just make our own arrangements without consulting them. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that if I wanted to be really snarky, I could make some sarcastic comments about how certain people do not deserve to be considered for titles of royalty—even though actually I did not know that anyone really wanted such a headache—even though that would only be my opinion, the proper authorities will make a decision on that point eventually, and if I had said something about that I would only be setting myself up for a counterattack, which, anyway, I already have enough problems without engaging in some artificially constructed confrontation over some obscure point that had not crossed my mind.

There is a lot of responsibility and expense attached to a title, especially one of royalty, even though the original meaning of that seems to be lost in the misty past. Some people still want that for some reason although I am not sure why I need to talk about this.

There was some discussion of how some titles of royalty can be purchased with cash or check, but they don't get much respect, the use of them being somewhat dubious, consisting of a mere monetary transaction, only an ornamental title to be printed on business cards and door plaques and so forth, detached from the original meaning of a sovereign bestowing some type of authority upon a person who has proven his leadership on behalf of the sovereign's government or something along those lines. Ok, whatever. I would really prefer not to opine on this topic. I have nothing to add to that.

Which Reminds Me

How do we politely explain that we are not interested in, actually not even aware of, any involvement in the politics of Malta vs. Italy vs. England? Now that I have done some research, I see that that was Baron Strickland's personal thing because he married a Maltese woman, although it seems that now, because his heirs were mostly daughters, that they are not actually Stricklands anymore, so how can they continue a title that really does not get its castle from Malta? And also we Stricklands in the USA, having left England in the 1600s or 1700s, do not fall heir to any such title or castle, needless to say. Many titles go extinct for want of direct relevance and that is nothing unusual. Do the Stricklands in the U.S. want the old Baron's Maltese headaches? Probably not. Do we want to bear the financial expense of an English castle? Beautiful as the place may be, no, probably not. It seems logical then that the National Trust of England should pay for that, I guess. I really didn't know one thing about that, but since you asked.

And if I should someday travel in Europe, I have no reason to exclude any of these places, Malta or Italy or England, from my travel itinerary. I am sure these are all very nice places to visit as a tourist but I have no reason to live there. The people who live there are the ones who have to decide what they are going to do about holding elections and that sort of political thing. But tourists don't care about that. We tourists just want to be sure that it is safe to go there and visit all the museums and eat in the restaurants without any risk of violent character assassination plots.

Which Reminds Me

My grandmother had, in her basement, a shelf loaded with Mason jars full of jams and jellies, some of which she had made herself, others were gifts or trades from friends and the relatives, whether the Texas relatives or others I am not sure. But nowadays we tend to buy our jams and jellies at the grocery store. We have lost some of the old arts of canning in our pursuit of modern progress and we are not sorry to see them go. We will not be doing that again. We must go forward, not backward.

Which Reminds Me

Ok, so Pam loathes denominations. Even so, I don't appreciate having to defend myself from all these darts. The story of denominations is a very long story. Do I really have to pause to explain 500 years of Protestant church history just because Pammie-Puke has some anti-D bee buzzing in her bonnet? I have better things to do than waste my time trying to reason with the incredibly nasty people of Michigan, needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

I heard some chatter about how ORU was trying to attach me to their nonsense. I don't want ORU in my life. Don't I have something to say about my own life? I couldn't care less about ORU. What was David thinking? Why did he go to that horrible place? Why did he ally himself with all those horrible ORU people? I have no idea. I just couldn't care less about ORU. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I heard some chatter about their Swiss bank accounts, but nobody really cares about that. I would only be guessing if I said anything about that, and anyway it wasn't my money, so I really cannot give you a key to the vault. You might get more accurate information from maybe Martha, if you really care to learn more. I really don't care. You are just barking up the wrong tree if you ask me about the money.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do remember that Pam was saying all sorts of nasty things about "denominations." She is an "independent" and does not want to be associated in any way with a "denomination." She only attends "non-denominational" churches and feels herself entitled to dismissively criticize and insult anything that might be termed "denominational." So that's her opinion.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that perhaps I could have told Mercedes personally what a nuisance I think that she actually is and how I do not care to chat with her about personal matters. Ok, so I am a coward about confrontations, I had my mother do it for me. It is bad enough having a confrontational sister and then you want me to confrontationalize other people as well. There is a point where I can't function with all these confrontationalists always screaming in my face. I just want to be at peace with myself at least.

Which Reminds Me

At one time during high school, in 11th grade, our maid was a person named Mercedes, a somewhat annoying person who always seemed to be doing something nearby so that she could easily overhear whatever we were saying or watch what we were doing, even in her spare time she would come into the family room and flop into a chair to chat. This got very tiresome after a very long time of putting up with her. I don't want to have to be always tripping over her all the time so I complained to my mother about her and then my mother said something to her about spending more time in her room and then she quit, which actually was the perfect solution actually for being rid of her because she really was getting to be a serious nuisance.

Which Reminds Me

In a past era, I mentioned that I had originally introduced Pam, from work, to Craig, but obviously I cannot take any credit for the way the sparks suddenly flew between them. Needless to say. What she saw in the little weasel I have no idea. I personally was not that interested. He had previously dated Michelle but to me he was just one of those guys at church.

Sometimes we cannot see all of the attachments until later so perhaps it is better to never again communicate with them because they have all these weird attachments that come back around to bite or sting like a scorpion or bee. I have no fond partiality for the Roberts family so I really don't care that much about getting hit on the back side of whatever their problem is. It is weird that Pam later became so aggressively hostile toward me. In my opinion, she is not really that special just because her name is Roberts, but she has some other movie script running through her head which has nothing to do with any reality that I am aware of.

Which Reminds Me

Why Libby, you clueless Boricua Butthead! Do I really have to express in so many words how NOT interested I am in learning more about your worthless Puerto Rican torture chambers? PR is nothing. To do PR you have to have a sincere product to offer and pure motives and I don't see anything there but Libby looking to promote herself at my expense. She always was one of those attention seekers in high school and I see that nothing has changed. Libby has nothing intelligent to say, she just wants to take her photo opportunities at every step of the way, even if that means nothing will happen other than Libby's photo opportunities run amok. But no, Libby will not have any important role in my life later. Not to be rude but just because you were sitting more toward the other side of the classroom in high school, that does not mean that I am going to take you home with me. You will have to go home with your parents and/or that Puerto Rican maid who works for you because I am not available.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I noticed that ugly Scottish roadhog masquerading as a U.S. citizen. If all UK women are such trashy bimbos as that, they certainly have no place to be throwing darts at me. You insisted on doing that to yourself without any help from me so you'll just have to clean up your own mess because I can't help you with that. 

Which Reminds Me

Yes, someone is reminding us about the utility of having a few Mason jars handy for storing jams and jellies and also maybe some pickled things. However, all these canning jokes distract attention from the fact that actually I am not the Mason jar to whom you refer and cannot imagine why we need to talk about that. I am sure that there is a place for Masons somewhere in society but anyway I really am not sure to whom I should be redirecting these Mason jar commentaries. I really had no idea, but that is interesting to know. Ball jars are another brand name that I can remember.

Which Reminds Me

Back in the old days, when Pam and Craig were only dating, Pam liked to boast at work that Craig had such good control. Ok, so, that's nice to hear, I guess, but if Craig tries to carry out his later online threats of controlling of me, he will be sorry. I will not be cooperating with that. Craig has no place to be screaming crazy things about me. Maybe he wasn't there at the time when Susie was heard to be voicing her criticism of them, and he thought it was me that said that, or else Susie was repeating something that Pam's roommates said, but anyway I am not Susie. Pam and Craig are not my problem. Why should I parrot what Susie said that Pam's roommates said about them. Let Pam's roommates and Susie speak their own opinions and leave me out of that. I really can't help with that. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, Pam Roberts never mentioned anything at work about her possible family connection to Richard Roberts and the gang at ORU, but later, due to information flowing through the wringer, we start to wonder whether that actually might be the case. Strange that anyone would care about the idiotic rantings of Pam who vomits everything ever said to her, but the Roberts family are revered as gods by the primitive peoples of Oklahoma, so we have to be careful how we approach that subject. ORU people are notoriously dependent on Roberts, and Hillsdale is the same kind of clueless as far as I can see. Hillsdale doesn't have much to boast of if Pam is all they got. Roberts is really a very common name and Pam really has no special insight of her own that anyone should care to be reminded of them. Needless to say.

And who took the Dixon book? I had that at one time but can't seem to find it now.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I also remember that you were saying that you have a problem with this word "confidence." It really bothers you whenever I have "confidence" in myself or in anything that I believe or if I may express any opinion. You always try to make me feel worthless and wrong. So how do you reconcile your anti-confidence attitude with the Scriptures, especially the book of Hebrews, where confidence is a specific order.

Hebrews 3:6: "But Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And we are his house, if indeed we hold firmly to our confidence and the hope in which we glory." 
Hebrews 4:16: "Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."
Hebrews 10:19: "Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus,"
Hebrews 10:35: "So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded."
Hebrews 11:1: "Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see."
Hebrews 13:6: "So we say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?”
Hebrews 13:17: "Have confidence in your leaders and submit to their authority, because they keep watch over you as those who must give an account. Do this so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no benefit to you."

Which Reminds Me

I wonder whatever happened to that golden rule of U.S.A politics which says that I am to be considered innocent until and unless convicted in a court of law. Well, that can never happen. I have always been a completely loyal citizen of the USA and there is no evidence or reason to be suggesting otherwise. So obviously you are just barking up the wrong tree. But all of these clues do make me wonder what someone else might be guilty of. Sorry that I am not able to turn state's evidence but I am not them. I think that I would know if I were guilty of something of that nature and yet nothing come's to mind.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit awkward to see those pagan trashy Gonzos pretending to be Christian. There is nothing Christian about their bad behavior, so needless to say it is horrifying to see the repulsive putrid Gonzos trying to attach themselves to the family tree. They are stupid disgusting liars, at least in my opinion. But let those dikey dog Colette hoes rot in their own foul stew. Why should I dirty my hands with their filthy Gonzo mess?

Which Reminds Me

Only in our recent researches do we learn of the existence of Baron San Giovanni who works for the U.S. Water Department. Hmmm. ... I wonder if he is related somehow to the San Giovannis of high school. Oddly, there is a question of whether the San Giovannis ever lived in Malta or Sicily. A point of no interest to me, but are they Italians or Maltese? This actually could matter somehow, although I am not sure how. I was not aware until recently of the Stricklands of Malta and/or Britain. My grandmother was a Strickland but the documentation connecting America to them is somewhat sketchy and irrelevant to the point of Malta. You were making some points about the Norman conquerors of whom the Stricklands may be numbered, sort of. And there is even a castle that at one time belonged to the family of Walter Strickland, but now belongs to England's National Trust. Even so, I don't know why I should care about that. I am neither Maltese nor Italian nor British. I really cannot see why I should feel sorry for these vicious hateful nasty Italian/Maltese witches named Kathy. These points are not connecting somehow.

Maybe you could write a new book, "Killing Ted." 

Which Reminds Me

Someone was reminding me that I was seen in the hallways of high school talking to Angela. Yes, so, there was a brief conversation in which she complimented my new blouse which was a nice thing to say. But beyond that I have no information to offer about Angela's personal story or what else happened to her after she was seen at the fair dating Kathy's ex-boyfriend. I just have no idea what that was about.

Which Reminds Me

Sad to see that my sister sold her soul to those dreary Italian skunk people so she will just have to live with the consequences of being related to those shrill Italian hags. I will be gone soon so it won't be my problem. I won't have to live with those vulgar hideous Italian people always screaming and yelling about the most ridiculous and irrelevant points. Am I your Maltese dog, that I should be expected to take orders from mentally retarded Italian bimbos named Kathy? No, I am not your Maltese dog and I don't take my orders from the Italian government.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that during high school, working in journalism class, someone made a derogatory comment about my stomach sort sticking out, which was a strange thing to say because really during high school I never weighed more than 125 pounds. It was only later that overeating and too many snacks and soda added to that. But at the time I just shrugged that off with no comment because, really, I would prefer not to discuss anything of a personal matter with that stupid anorexical bimbo Kathy. Who has a flat stomach unless you are built that way or else anorexic? But I wasn't shaped that way and neither was I never anorexic. So there is nothing that I need to say about that.

Which Reminds Me

During my recent researches, I learned of the existence of the Mr. Calkins who invented some type of wringer washing machine, which I imagine was a rather lucrative thing to own the patent of back in the 19th century. He was in Chicago.

However, just because my last name is Calkins, that does not mean that I am in any way related to the wringer washing machine people, or in any way heir to that money. We may or may not be all descended from the common ancestor who came to America in 1640, Hugh Calkins, not to be confused with that other Hewe.

Now there is a point worth about two cents. 

But whether or not Harvey got the washing machine money or not is not a matter that ever crosses my mind, given that I did not know these people existed until quite recently, and now, knowing that they exist, so what? I cannot tell their story. Let them speak for themselves. I just want to be on my way, to be rid of them and I will be gone as soon as I get my exit check in hand. Do I really have to sit here and be insulted on a regular basis by those dirty dogs Pam and Craig? There is a point where one has to turn the tables on you worthless Michigan/Wisconsin riff-raff idiots and fight back. Or else just leave because I have no chance of winning your rigged game, you dirty cheaters.

Which Reminds Me

I am trying to remember who it was who was sounding out our opinions on the subject of wringer washing machines. Yes, my grandmother was still using one of those things even in the 1970s, until she died, come to think of it. She kept it in the garage. Very clever how the tub will be swishing and shaking and then suddenly it stops and the clothing, the sheets, etc., starts coming through the wringer. But, yes, of course, there is no money today in the market for wringer washing machines. Most people nowadays want a modern front-loader with lots of lights and buttons and dials on the control panel. But of course wringer washing machines had their day. Another example of old-fashioned outdated technologies that became obsolete because time didn't stand still for them. Needless to say, most of those old machines are now rusting in junkyards, but they did have their season.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, I know, wouldn't it be funny if Sylvia Brooke would come along and marry the man, Loren, whom I so cruelly dismissed, and then for me to end up working at the lousy translator job formerly held by Sylvia, except that I am not a willing participant. Poetic justice for Bill, perhaps, but I am not amused. I don't find this dribbling brooklet humor very funny.

Which Reminds Me

All of which begs the question, who gave the swaggering idiots of Louisiana the mistaken impression that I would be going there and taking money from that filthy dirty fleabag Jim? I never had any thought of them. I turned down the job that was suggested to me. No self-respecting Christian girl would want that disgusting wretch for a boss. I would rather kill myself than work for their putrid operation. I would not want to be mistaken for that dirty how Jessica. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Why Sam, you blithering idiot, you have only yourself to blame for this wonton display of Jessica. I am rather shocked to learn of your intimate familiarity with the dreary cake bakers of Branson. The longer you talk, the more obvious it becomes that you spent a lot of time hanging out in the Gem. Uhhhh! What self-respecting Christian girl cares to be counted amongst the dreary counterfeiters who would ever pause to listen to the idiotic ratings of trashy bimbos named Jessica? It is mere coincidence that I happen to live in Florida, not by any design of socializing with them. Although it does seem an odd oxymoron that this dull and dreary Jessica should get away with all the money just for doing basically nothing other than to be a public nuisance. Other than maybe to give public notice of the need for Jim's empty head to be plowed under to make way for people who might not be so glamorous but who will be willing to do the requisite job without all this ridiculous and inappropriate freak show going on at the back door. But I am not the doormat of your back door. Needless to say.

But Sam lives on a different planet now. He married Jane and now must putter around in Deep Do-Do. Do this, do that, do whatever. Due this, due that, due whatever. Sad to hear, but I belong to the Independent Party now so that those dreary party poopers will have no place for raining on my parade. A party is not everything. There are priorities more important even than party planning. Parties have their places.

But Sam now lives on a different planet, obviously. Through Jane, he is now distantly related by in-law to the dreary Walkers of West Virginia, who at some time were missionaries somewhere in South America, maybe Peru or Ecuador, so he is confusing me with Elizabeth Hunt, who is my Dad's cousin. Now he talks through the Walkers, who have publicly given notice that they do not want me to come along with them. Their idea of me is perhaps confused with the Hunts, our relatives who were missionaries in Venezuela at the same time that we were in El Salvador. I never really compared notes with the Hunts so I really cannot speak for them. I have to just shrug off this nonsensical bid for Walker/Hunt self-importance because, anyway, not to necessarily defend Elizabeth, but neither am I related to the Walkers.

I am independently me and do not care to further this ridiculous dialogue through the nose.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does seem strangely out of place, all this silly chatter about the Nobel Prize. William Faulkner was one of the few Americans who actually won that prize, but there have been few and far between, the U.S. citizens who actually passed Swedish hurdles that are only vaguely comprehended here. Who knows, maybe if you write a book someday you too might have a chance to win the Nobel Prize, although literature is not the only way to win it. You could also make some amazing discovery in areas of science, mathematics, or economics. And then there is the Peace Prize, which has something to do with Swedish politics perhaps, I really don't understand how that works. Even so, it would be extremely premature to speculate whether the United States would care to sponsor your application to the Peace Prize, given your overwrought hostilities on silly points of wording. But I digress.

Which Reminds Me

Hmmm.... Backus.... Wasn't that the name of a loathsome repulsive swamp creature of whom very little is known? It lurks in back alleys and masks its true intentions, so what reasonable dialogue could I possibly have with those wine toadies? I really don't see the point of further dialogue along these lines. It just wouldn't be productive, at least not for me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, someone is trying to remind me about something that happened in 10th grade English class, when one guy stood up a few seats away from me and talked about the problem of reeducating these clueless peasants who work on his family's estate. Coincidentally, he now lives in Chile. Whether or not they were indentured servants and/or slaves I really could not say. That was not the point of what he was saying at the time, although I suppose that you could jump to a few conclusions to get to that point, even though there were not enough words available from just what he said to build a case for or against slavery.

Which Reminds Me

Why should I trouble myself with thoughts of the succession of the British throne? I am neither Stewart nor Tudor, so this is not my problem. Queen Elizabeth II herself was heard reminding everyone that she herself is a descendant of Catherine of Aragon, the daughter of the Spanish monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella, which seems to consolidate her ancestral and hereditary power. So this is a point that makes it unnecessary to further discuss the events of the 16th century, although we can perhaps sort of see how Elizabeth I, the Tudor Queen, might have deemed it necessary to cut off the head of her half-sister Queen 'Bloody' Mary in order to stabilize England's political situation at the time. I can't say that Elizabeth was wrong on that point given the horrible record of Mary, and she also presided over the destruction of the Spanish Armada, but then again I am not Roman Catholic. We here in America find it hard to understand the politics of the Catholic Stricklands who stayed in England and were possibly among Catholic Mary's hosts in another era. Which perhaps explains why we don't care to dialogue further with the Baron and his murderous Maltese brood. It just doesn't matter that much to me in my daily life what happens over there. It's just all out of my control and I really don't have the resources to ponder such imponderable matters. I don't have the weapons to fight off these attacks from the trashy Turner Tramps and their D. Trapping associates of Malta and/or Italy. It just doesn't matter what the Turner Tramps say about anything. I have to cut off the filibustering Turner Tramps to spare myself some stupid arguments that don't really matter. Why are these people that afraid of my potential success? You are just too ridiculous.

Which Reminds Me

You are too late, much much too late, but you already knew that. Who knows what Utopian paradise might have resulted if only the Protestant division had not occurred? Yes, I know that is what you are thinking about. You Roman Catholics think only of reattaching Henry VIII to his Catherine, as if 500 years later we could go back and rewrite history. Sorry but the events of history are what they are and Sir Thomas More's head remains unattached to his body, the last I heard. I haven't heard you make any relevant points as to how to reattach Thomas' empty head.

Which Reminds Me

Where is it written in the law books, this legal requirement that I must pay for the crimes that may or may not have been committed by wonton hoe Stephanie? Although she was standing nearby me in the classroom, actually sort of behind my back, as she delivered her tortured confession of having done something that she didn't previously know was wrong, Stephanie's ignorance of the law is no excuse for her. And as for myself, I do not wish to take the Stephanie dog by the ears and get myself involved in that. Stephanie has so many horrible problems that do not belong to me, and I would like to keep it that way.

Which Reminds Me

More Factoid No. 1: Thomas More was born on Milk Street.

Even so, the Milky Way More code will not help you clueless little dwarves in this McClellan quest of yours. You just can never fill the shoes of the ancient ancestors who were all very tall, well over six feet, closer to seven feet in some cases. Grandpa McClellan was 6'2" and he was considered relatively short by comparison to the ancients.

Which Reminds Me

It is common knowledge that Danny's mother was Swedish, which perhaps explains why he is working in league with those evil Communist blondie witches. Well, at least he has a wife and child to love him, because otherwise he would not have anyone available to encourage his strange delusions of grandeur. He is just a regular working class guy who maybe drives a truck or something. I really wouldn't know anything about that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I know, you really cannot tell just by looking at superficial appearances that Danny Boy is actually just another piece of boring Swedish tinsel. You cannot really see the tree for all that Swedish glitter, but what do I know? I am just completely bored of seeing that everywhere.

Which Reminds Me

How do I politely tell the dreary bores of Michigan that I do not want them in my life? What do I care about the frozen butts of Wisconsin? You are nothing to me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I know, it is hard to imagine what reasonable dialogue we could possibly have with that vicious little counterfeiter Joy Butthead. Oh, was she or someone from Finland, not really the U.K.? Does that somehow explain the proliferation of dorsal fin sightings along the coasts of the U.S.? We cannot see the forest for the trees in the current scheme of things, needless to say, and Joy is not helping matters.

Which Reminds Me

One day during high school I was in the living room of my house doing my homework or reading something and my sister came in and was saying all these insulting ditties, and Na na na na na na, and so forth. And then she challenged me to write a better insulting ditty, and so I sat down at the dining room table and wrote an insulting ditty, and then she was upset because mine was better, more well written, than hers. Ok, so I did that, but she asked for it. I was just playing along with her game and then I am the only one punished for what she started.

Which Reminds Me

"Laughter the Best Medicine," is the name of a column in the monthly magazine "Reader's Digest," from which Grandma Calkins loved to read excerpts aloud to anyone within earshot. In her bookshelf she had every copy of "Reader's Digest" magazine starting from 1939, so there is a veritable treasure chest of good humor if you are so inclined. Of course, that is good humor presented for mass consumption, not to be confused with the crude and vulgar bad humor dispensed by the primitive peoples that does not deserve mass publication. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I know, it is unfortunate that my grandmother allied herself with those horrible Spanish turd people, a short-term financial expedient that has some disastrous consequences for her grandchildren, especially me. Yes, Ok, so you made your point. I get that. But even so, not knowing how the deal is constructed, I am not yet sure how to throw the Spanish turd people away, which is where I would put them if I had my way. They seem to have forgotten their places and I don't seem to have a handle on that. Unfortunately.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, you have liked to remind us that Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) was the father of about 20 children with his two wives, many of whom survived to become accomplished musicians in their own right. He wrote many beautiful masterpieces of music and yet he produced a singular lack of wording, leaving little or no space for an explanation of how this could be so. The pictures may be helpful for reeducating the mostly illiterate population, but who is going to write the words? That is what you were saying. I heard that.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, when I was working as a reporter, my job was mostly to report what other people were saying and thinking and doing in a disinterested and impersonal way. To fight these battles of other people in a personal crusader way, which was at times urged and pushed upon me, seemed inappropriate, although certainly matters of justice, law and order are universally evident generally speaking. Some stories can only be told in a first-person way, but that was not my job. My job was to tell it in a third-person way.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do think that it is time to break the chains that supposedly bind us to snarky little monsters coincidentally named David and Robert, no relation to me. I belong to Jesus now, so the codings of those other little hereditary brats are a rather grievous annoyance but not really the final words of Jesus for me and my life. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

I vaguely remember that many years ago I went bowling with some people from the youth group, and Dave Hoskins was there and he was talking about how he likes the music of Bruce Springsteen, especially that song "Born to Run." By the way, "Made in the USA," is another Springsteen song. And then later when I saw Dave somewhere else he said to me, remember, Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run, as if that were his code for me, or else my code for him. However, I actually don't think that Dave is a potential candidate for elective office. Too much baggage. Needless to say more about the other possible meanings that we could attribute to Dave through that. 

Which Reminds Me

And what dialogue could I possibly have with the dreary Britannical Turncoat bimbos of South Africa? You probably have mistaken me for that hideous Britannical dog Stephanie. Arf! Arf! Your sole source of information is probably that blithering idiot Fred and his stupid Italian second wife who leaks wrong information all over the place, or so we hear. So?

Which Reminds Me

I do appreciate Dr. Kelly finally signing off on my journalism thesis project after having provided so many corrections that I rewrote the whole thing before finally concluding my journalism degree. Even so, I really don't know very much about him in a personal way. There were a couple of nice student meetings at their house in Chesapeake where we met his wife and they also have a daughter. But beyond that I really cannot comment further. There is no reason to have to post online my notes of class lectures. That would be, I don't know, quite a few lectures and, yes, he has his particular opinions about things which are expressed in those heated TV discussions of which I heard only something obliquely, not really enough details to say what I might think about that one way or another.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I am no fan of hair spray. My mother tried to train me that way but it was useless to do that when the difference is very little, the chemicals annoying, and anyway nobody seems to care what I look like except maybe my parents.

Which Reminds Me

There is a time for everything under the sun, but this is not a day to have the cattle in here pooping all over the carpet. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

I am reluctant to speculate on the political displays of various high school associates as I have no idea what their opinions might be of Nixon and various other U.S. presidents. I never really discussed this matter of presidential preferences with them so there is nothing that I can say as to that point. What am I, the punching bag for every political opinion that does not suit the fat ugly hogs of Iowa? I can't keep track of all these people.

Which Reminds Me

During our first term in El Salvador, our maid's name was Betty. (Coincidentally, my mother's name is also Betty.) One day she had received a love letter from some guy down the street. She read it aloud to us without explaining what it was. The way she read it, I am sitting there thinking that this is a letter that someone wrote to me and then at the end she explains that it is for her. Ok, fine. Whatever. Anyway, I have no faith in some guy down the street really caring about me. It is all just a lie.

Which Reminds Me

My high school graduation party was held at the Bueno house, which was nice. Several people were there. One of my gifts was a wooden box in which I was told I might place the love letters that I might receive in the future. As it turns out I have not received any love letters, but thanks, I probably still have the box stored away somewhere.

Which Reminds Me

Who are these nasty rich people who imagine themselves my slave masters? It seems to fall as my sad duty to formally charge those stupid magazine buttheads to the full extent of the law, whenever I can figure out how to get out of this pit.

Which Reminds Me

Ok, so I stand corrected. He was either Samuel J. Longwell (1886-1954), son of William, and Caila Fausett (1891-1953) was his wife and also the mother of his two or three children. Not to be confused with Samuel R. Longwell, born 1937 in San Francisco. Or else he was Samuel J. Longwell (1886-1954), son of Frank. Ok, so I am confused. Even so it is hard for me to understand why I should feel sorry for his daughter Yula of Iowa when I am not aware that these people exist. I really don't see the connection or why I should care about that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I know, if only they would turn off the Faucet and/or Fawcett. I only learned about Fawcett quite recently after noticing a pack of Hollywood bimbos crowing and yodeling a pack of nonsense, all over my head of course. Oh, was Mr. Longwood the backstabbing traitor who ran away with the money? And Mrs. Fawcett was his mother. Thus the Iowa connection. And this all happened when? In about 1950. So obviously this pack of rubbish is not worth recalling to mind. There is nothing in it for me, obviously. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, did I mention that I was harassed throughout childhood with bad name jokes? Yes, well, I don't think about that every day but if you ask me I will tell you that sometimes people gratuitously harassed me with the name of Candy Cane, even though that is not my name. People cannot spell my last name, they sometimes throw in a "u" that does not belong there, so I always have to spell it out, plus I have an "i" at the end of my first name, not a "y." So I might have mentioned that to someone although I cannot remember who. 

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, I did think that Miss Marken was a good in terms of being an English teacher in 9th and also 10th grade, but there are some personal issues that I really would not want to discuss with her in terms of politics. I have no idea what her political agenda ultimately might be but high school is over now. There is no reason to have to relive the miseries of high school now, after all this time.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, someone has reminded me that at one time there was a high school classmate of mine whose name was Libby. So that does that make her a women's Libber? The thought had not crossed my mind until now, although come to think of it she does hog the airwaves too much. And you expect me to visit you in New York to be further harassed with all these bad name jokes? Was your name Good or Bad? Or else perhaps you lost your mind. That is all I can figure.

Which Reminds Me

It always strikes me as very odd that persons of whose existence I am not aware, or barely aware, should be so furiously accusing me of slamming them. I actually didn't say very much about them so it is hard for me to see how that twister got started.

Which Reminds Me

I am quite certain that I am not remembering accurately what Miss Marken actually said about Gloria Steinem and NOW and the ERA. It was a sort of jumble of a slightly satirical nature possibly containing those elements although it is very hard to explain Miss Marken at all, much less reconstruct her exact wordings. I mostly found her little political asides somewhat interesting although she had some particular agenda points that I don't necessarily understand what she meant by that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, what sort of uncultured social clod does not stand for Handel's "Hallelujah" chorus?  But I cannot say for sure whether Jamaican Debi stood or not because I wasn't sitting next to her. Whether or not she ought to be there, that is not my problem. You will have only yourself to blame if the ship starts to drift off course, because, anyway, reproductive technology is only one part of the story, not really the whole story.

Which Reminds Me

And what further dialogue could I possibly have with this nasty vicious little peasant hoe, Jeannie Due Butthead? I heard her casting false and slanderous aspersion upon me. She has two children so we must be kind for the children's sake. But even so, I don't need her stupid Dan headaches. The thought never crossed my mind. She married him so she can keep him. She had better take care of Dan because I certainly won't be taking her lousy job. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, now I remember, I had almost forgotten about the Duvals. It looks like I forgot to tell Jeannie Duval that it really bothers me that way her stupid husband Dan is following me around all over the place. I really don't like going out with the youth group after church and finding this married man, who happens to be the assistant pastor, sitting next to me at the restaurant, asking me all these personal questions. Where is his wife? Shouldn't she be her also? But I have no patience for hostile confrontations. So I will move away and shrug off and/or dump this stupid Duval trap in the garbage can because, as I said, I have no patience for these boring people. Seriously, I should not be giving the Duvals any further opportunities to embarrass me.

Which Reminds Me

It might have been Miss Marken, our English teacher in 10th grade, who told us a story about Gloria Steinem, frustrated with not getting the ERA passed, burns parts of her apparel and throws herself into a swimming pool. Some political incident of the 1970s. Well, I cannot insert more nuances into Miss Marken's words than what she herself said, although perhaps her particular brand of sarcasm might fly over the heads of some of these Spanish people.

Which Reminds Me

Why are these crazy people crowing about NOW? I never had the slightest connection to NOW, don't know anything about it. Someone in high school said something in class about Gloria Steinem but I cannot recall the details of that. I think that it was passing comment about politics of the 1970s, the ERA amendment that never happened, but I wasn't paying attention to that.

Which Reminds Me

Ok, so Turncoat Ted sits up there in his ivory tower reigning terror on poor white people not even tangentially connected to Atlanta. O, hideous Turncoat Scarlett bimbo, why should I care about the halls of Atlanta? We once saw Six Flags over Atlanta but that was only one day that I ever spent there, only passing through. We were on our way to somewhere else. No reason to care about the dreary bores who prattle on so about the outlet shopping of Atlanta. Yes, we have good shopping here, too. So?

Which Reminds Me

During high school I remember that my little sister and a friend of hers played a silly prank on Lori Reese in sending her a fake love letter signed anonymously so that they could laugh at Lori's misguided reaction of being pursued by a non-existent Secret Lover, as if that were funny. Later, my mother made my sister go and apologize to Lori. As for me, I only heard about this when my mother told me. Oh, I didn't know that. And then more recently someone was trying to attach me to that prank, but, as I was saying, how many times do I have to repeat this story, I didn't know anything about that. I wasn't a part of that. My sister had some friend working with her on that but I cannot remember who that was. My sister is a very accomplished prankster but I do not enjoy that, much less remember all the details of her many boasted pranks. Strange how she gets away with all these pranks and I cannot even breathe without all these people screaming in my face. Weird.

Which Reminds Me

Back in college days, I vaguely recall seeing the faces of Bill Kelly and Joy Bolton around campus but I cannot remember one thing about them, just that they seemed to be prominent in the cliquey circles of which I was not a part.

Which Reminds Me

When I was doing my genealogy, I noticed that someone named Candice Peebles had already covered a lot of the same ground so that makes it a little bit easier. The Peebles are only tangentially related because they have the Burreys. We are descended from Rhoda Burrey whereas they are descended from a different Burrey, not to be confused with Burrows. They might be also descendants of Mary Ann Carr. Carr and her husband, Jacob Burrey, had 11 children, several of whom lived to adulthood, so 200 years later that could be quite a few people to track down, although I don't recommend contacting people on genealogy charts for reasons other than research.

Which Reminds Me

It is interesting to note, coincidentally, that Mary Ann Carr (1821-1881) was one of our ancestors. She was Prussian. It is something of a mystery how she managed to escape her tyrannical parents in Prussia and land in America where she married Jacob Burrey. Her name appears in genealogy charts but beyond that I have nothing to add.

Which Reminds Me

The only other thing that I can remember about David is that he is a big fan of Bruce Springsteen, perhaps because he was "Born to Run."

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that if you were a certified car mechanic, I might want to consult with you regards to my serious car problems. But just to chattify endlessly on the merits of various car parts would seem to me somewhat boring, an unnecessary and excessive expenditure of energies that might be better disposed elsewhere. You seem to have this car parts narrative endlessly looping in your brain, and yet you have not so much as applied to car mechanic school, thus you cannot be trusted with any car of mine.

Which Reminds Me

I know, Dave is such an annoying person, such a nuisance, such an embarrassment to all concerned. But what can I say or do about that? I only worked alongside him for about two weeks one summer many years ago in a warehouse, because his father, president of the company, ordered us to work him into our schedule. So that is all there is here to say about Dave. For the scoop on his various affairs, whether Appalachian or Russian, you will need to find other sources. I really don't know anything else about them. There are many rumors about Russia but nothing that I could quote in so many words without fear of reprisals, thus getting myself hit back ten times harder by those nasty power people. So?

Which Reminds Me

Many years ago when I was working in California, I remember that Mark Carpenter seemed to be intimately acquainted with all the details of the discussions involved by our boss in the development of newsletters. The newsletter people would come to the office to discuss these publications, or would call on the phone, and Mark always seemed to be well informed about the details of these discussions. One of their newsletters talked in alarming tones about the impending invasion by Mexico. I cannot recall now the details of that but the way it was explained by Mark, there seemed to be something scary about that.

Which Reminds Me

I might be remembering that in high school someone gave an oral book report on Solzhenitsyn's "Gulag Archipelago," although I cannot remember who that was or ever reading that book myself. Sounded sort of depressing. But the author escaped to New England and wrote about Siberia from there for about 20 years in exile, later returning to Russia as a hero. I did read another book by an escaped KGB agent but I cannot remember the title or author, just that he seemed to lack any type of morals, just a hired killer. So what does Russia really stand for? I really don't see the point of going there unless we have something better to tell the world, than just to sink into the cesspool of soulless crazy stupidities, all for the sake of money. If you cannot walk the walk and talk the talk, then you would just be adding complications to the problem. So just don't go there.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely recall Dave boasting of his IQ score near 160, which he knows because he and a friend  broke into his high school offices. So there is an oxymoron. What a dumb way to promote yourself. So smart your score rolled back around to zero.

Which Reminds Me

It does seem strangely coincidental that Paul Bettex would send his resignation letter to the various Booth family members, although we are not sure what was contained in the letter or where it might be filed away. But if your last name is, let's say, Tucker, we cannot assume that you are a descendant or somehow connected to the Salvation Army, even though one of General Booth's daughters, Emma, married Mr. Frederick Tucker and they had several children whose descendants, it is probably safe to say, might be living somewhere on the planet even now. Does that make Kathy your mother? As children we were often called on to sing "Onward Christian Soldiers," and yet I do not think that we were ever employees of the Salvation Army that we should need to write you a letter to discuss something. So what is your question?

And if Paul Bettex should happen to be recommended for canonization as a saint, would you have a problem with that? I am really not a Roman Catholic so that is not my problem, although Bettex is probably honored already as a martyr even without a plaque to hang on the wall. But either way I don't really see the need for an argument.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember the name of Joy Bolton but I cannot seem to remember one thing about her. Who was she? Was she a college classmate at SCC? I have no idea. Some things blur together in the mind after so many years.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I have not forgotten. Who were you, that rude person who sent me a message? You were comparing me to Rodney Dangerfield, he who gets "no respect." You were mocking me because I will not gain your respect if I do not fit your twin boxes: health care professional and/or certified teacher. No, I suppose you could say that I ticked that other box, "None of the above." But that, too, was your wording. You mock my lack of verbal opportunities. I am supposed to just sit here and let you write your lousy book over my head. Except that this is my life and I don't quite see it that way. If this disqualifies me from socializing with you, so much the better. I cannot have you running my life. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do rather like Debbie Boone's rendition of that Bob Dylan song, "Ring dem Bells," although I am not sure whether the words mean very much. I tend to think that such an obscure poem could be open, or rather vulnerable or susceptible to multiple interpretations, thus leading ultimately to a chaotic confusion of contradictory impressions. But if you must insist on covering a Bob Dylan song, I suppose that at least that is one of the few songs of his that is singable, sort of.

Which Reminds Me

I must admit that I do not share this fascination of yours with the health care professions. If I had to choose a vocation, it certainly NOT be anything medical. I do not feel myself under any obligation to enter the nursing and/or medical doctor profession, needless to say, although certainly the medical and/or health care profession is a noble one, and well remunerated, for those who are so called. I have no idea why all these girls are so interested in limiting themselves to a pathetically boring career of nurse and/or teacher. I had thought that this was a free country where our choice of occupation was not limited to these two boxes, but I don't seem to know anything. Everything I would rather do is NOT NOT NOT available or does NOT pay well. If I can't be a teacher, and not interested in health care, what can I do?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that when I was in maybe 8th grade at the MK school, after lunch our teacher Mrs. Richardson would have story time, in which she would read aloud to us a chapter from a book. One of the books she read to us was a novel, although I cannot remember the title of it, or maybe there was a true story behind it, about some people who came to Canada from Russia and found Christianity. The heroine, who might have been Jewish or not, I don't remember very much about this book, when in her youth living back in Russia, or maybe Eastern Europe, worked as a maid in the very large house of very wealthy people, often on her hands and knees scrubbing the fancy flooring. Eventually she escapes to America where she finds true love. Also, another character in the book was a Jewish man who is caught in a storm, while touring the many islands of the St. Lawrence River, and finds God. Whether it was the storm or the still small voice, I don't remember. Our teacher, Mrs. Richardson, was Canadian so sometimes she reminds us that some things are not a matter of nationality. Anyway, I think that all of us who come to America were escaping something in Europe, if only a lack of new opportunities. No need for more recent immigrants to imagine that earlier American pioneers were not also hard-working people just doing their jobs.