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.