Which Reminds Me

Yes, just because you are coincidentally named David, that does not constitute some reason for me to care about your pathetic horrible life. I am just saying, so what?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, maybe someone might have said something about Lori being a Georgia peach, because her family is from Atlanta, Georgia, and also Georgie is famous for its peaches, so what else could that mean? I just have no idea what else some other people might have done with that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, how well we have learned that throughout the ages that various Christians have been killed and died a martyr's death because their faith somehow did not fall within the perimeters dignified by the Spanish Inquisition as not worth burning at the stake. Even so, now is not the time to be discussing these doctrinal matters that are way over my head. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I always did have more than my share of curiosity, needless to say. Thus, I could not help but be curious about the precise wording of the scintillating and/or sizzling letter from Bruce Brock's girlfriend, which was so upsetting to my mother when she opened it by mistake, confused as she was by the way in which it had been addressed to the care of us, because he was staying at our house that summer, although it is probably better that I never really got to read that. My mother only told me something about what it said and how, after she realized her mistake, she handed it to him without any comment, obviously already opened, so obviously he was knew she had seen that, although h was probably not sure how much we know about that or who we might tell laterr. Well, sorry about that, but whatever. Get over yourself, boring bimbos of Arizona.

And just think if I had actually had read the letter, and could actually say something real about that, how much more miserable your life could be. Just think about that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that there was a Bernhardt in our high school, although no acquaintance of mine, that I would never have had occasion or even have thought of asking such an impertinent question about the famous dancer of that name. She might have been of a lower class level than myself, a  9th, 10th or 11th grader when I myself was in the 12th. Even so, I cannot imagine what that has to do with the fact of myself having studied a book titled "Ariel" by the famous Uruguayan author, which was an extremely tedious philosophical treatise on a not always very useful question of what is more important, utilitarianism vs. aesthetics. Sort of depends, I suppose.

Speaking of Uruguay, I vaguely remember the Stone family but only from the third grade. If I ever see them again or not, well, at this point, it really does not matter. It just wouldn't matter. It always was so easy for them to pass themselves off as natives, but I cannot do that. I always will look like a foreigner there, so their method of masquerading as a native is useless to me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, given the level of Party hostility emanating from you, it can be safely assumed that you have probably heard something that I said about my parents voting for Nixon, after Joan made some disparaging remark about Nixon, thus to effectively end that conversation, indicating that your sole source of information is probably Joan, or whoever else overheard that very small exchange, or else whatever Joan told Kathy or whoever else, which means that you don't know much anyway. It is hard for me to understand why you would think that I would want to handle Joan's mail. They are all Democratic Party Props so you should be sending Joan's mail to them, not me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I have a hard time understanding why I should be intimidated by some Democratic Party props who only wish they could run me off the road, only because they heard on the grapevine something about my parents having voted for Nixon. Thus, I wash my hands of these obviously biased Party political strategists thus to let the chips or votes fall where they may, because anyway God is in control, not you or me.

So what if some clueless Party Prop won't talk to me? I won't talk to you either. Get off my back. You just don't matter.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I distinctly remember you saying that you were planning to brick me into a corner, thus to have zero contact with anything of a public nature. That is how Masons are, always so mean to me. And thus surrounded by all of these solid brick walls, why should I suicidally attempt to communicate with all of these vicious nasty people from Michigan? Basically, I don't really need them for anything. Even a princess coming back from the dead could not hope to change the facts such as they are. We are more and more horrified at the sight of vicious Terry Lick-a-Brick

Which Reminds Me

Yes, for a long time I could not understand all that gibberish from Linda about the significance of her surname being: Not Man, as if that meant something. Perhaps it had something to do with Rudyard Kipling's poem "If." How can she be iffy when she is Not Man? Even so, I am once again less than impressed with these idiotic rantings. Blah blah blah. Whatever.

And how odd that Linda has been comparing notes with Lori Kellerman. Interesting how all these people from Michigan who live around here all know each other from somewhere else and have something else going on in the background that they never really explained, something about how they think the entire universe revolves around only them.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember being accosted by the Tinker monster, and also I remember how she talked about the eradication of Yellow Fever with a certain twist in her voice, almost as if the term Yellow Fever had some other meaning for her, as if she were a pile of Chinese junk floating in the Yellow Sea, and not really a Mexican military counterinsurgent spy, as if we were never going to notice that.

Needless to say, we prefer to ignore these useless junk piles. What is a pile of junk without a context? Nothing but a pile of worthless junk.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, and who are you to lecture me about choices, you repugnant slop of Lori Kellerman? You ain't nothing but a hound dog whining all the time. You ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine. Perhaps I should have more forcefully dumped Lori Kellerman in the garbage bucket where she belongs. Nobody seems to have gotten the message to avoid her always. Her wickedness is insidious. I don't like having her neighbors across the hall pounding on my door day and night. I don't know very much about them. I only met them once or twice. Thanks for the pizza.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, most horribly nightmarish day of my life during high school, when I was accosted by the vicious nasty Tinker monster. Oh, horror of horrors, but soon I will return to the U.S. and thus be rid of all this Tinker trash. They are here to research rare tropical diseases which are already mostly eradicated now, so we will not have much need of their health care services in the future, although nothing personal about that. It was only a job. Much less do I need to discuss anything with their chatterbox  cousin or something Kennedy.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, they do have a backhanded way of telling me about what they are doing now, by clamoring about stuff that I did not even know about them, possibly because our lunch schedules did not coincide, so that was interesting, I did not know that, and even so, now that I do know that, so what? It just doesn't matter. Let someone else deliver that mail. It's too hard for me to talk to them.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember seeing the face of Judy during high school, but I never talked to her nor was there any opportunity to do so, for that matter. During high school, Judy's entire social life consisted of Tom Tom Tom and nothing but Tom. Yes, how lucky to have a boyfriend throughout high school, even if only Tom, almost the only white boys in our class, thus to prove you are no dike, there being no existing evidence of any other only thought process in vicious nasty broomstick Judy's empty head. For some others of us, life is not that simple. We have to wait until we return to the United States where perhaps in a Christian college we can find a more ample supply of suitable Christian escorts for whatever class events, or maybe not, but anyway certainly in high school there was nothing worth mentioning.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, wouldn't that be nice if I had the money to buy them all off? But unfortunately there is no money, and thus we languish in this twilight of nothingness until we all die, eventually.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, this is a bit awkward, the very distantly related cousins of the third or fourth degree trying to attach me to their bizarre political configuration, of which I know absolutely nothing. I have no way to fire them, and yet I consider myself completely independent of and free from whatever their problem is.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, in a way it was nice that while I was being confronted at Evangel College by a group of voters who failed to vote for me, although nobody asked them to do that, the thought of running for office not having ever crossed my mind, that Jan Chance was not there at the time, nor do I ever remember her ever discussing that with me afterwards, that I would have any idea what she might know about that, or at least what she thinks she knows, or who she was talking to at the time. But then again, on the other hand, the omission of any comment from Jan is not a point that inspires any great confidence in me, that I should have any reason to offer some remark upon this point or any commendation of Jan's entire lack of relevance on any point concerning myself.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember in high school, Linda Sease once said hello to me in the hallway and complimented my new blouse, so that was nice. That being the only conversation I ever had with her, all of these references make me a little bit nervous. I know nothing at all about her.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I too would be happy to see the rationale of the Brown D.A. fully explained and exposed in all of of its many points, so that we can see the roots of that malice and where that came from. I have not yet found much reflection or verbiage on the point of dumping Larry and Jerry in the same garbage bucket, but who knows maybe someday something will turn up. I am not sure when but who knows?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is sad that in this current atmosphere so utterly devoid of intelligent leadership, I must be the captain of my own ship, the master of my own fate. I must be alone with my thoughts and not distracted by persons so utterly clueless in regards to these basic medical facts. There seems to be nobody worthy of being trusted in this worldly wilderness of trashy worthless challenged teenager slop.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is sad that many of these housemaids have not progressed very far beyond the fourth grade. When they see my mother every day taking a little pill, and expressing all of these exaggerated concerns, we have to explain very basic things to them, such as, what is a thyroid? what is the function of the thyroid gland? what is a doctor prescription? and various other details of my mother's medical history, etc. etc. We are not surprised to hear such confusion from the maid who has only recently learned about how to flip the switch to turn the electric lights on and off (which is actually someone else's maid story, the point being that these people are sometimes quite naive when they first arrive from the country). Although we don't mind having to explain basic things to them, because we are not paying them such high salaries and we are helping them to get started learning how to live in the city where there is electricity and running water, we are less concerned about the confusion of some persons who should know better. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember some confusion about my mother's pills. My mother has a thyroid condition so she takes a little pill everyday to regulate her metabolism. Someone was confused about the pills, perhaps that was the maid. She expressed her concern about all these pills but it was a doctor's prescription so there was nothing to do about that. Sometimes these maids are a little bit confused about things.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, hey, how well I remember that those were your Polack jokes that you were telling us and that you were requiring that we laugh at in contemplation of how many Polacks does it take to change a light bulb, because, after all, we might not have ever thought of that if you had not brought up the subject of your Polish background in such a humorous way. Similarly, those were your Hillary jokes. I cannot even remember one to retell, and yet I seem to think that you probably have all of that filed away somewhere next to the Polack jokes.

But, yes, the Molina jokes came other sources probably. I cannot remember those either now although at the time the social norms of the place seemed to require a chuckle even if their humor is so unbelievably crude sometimes.

But I never was very good at retelling jokes which is why I mostly cannot remember that stuff. I just forget jokes right away but my sister might remember more about that stuff than I do. Maybe she can remember the punch line to that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, nobody was twisting your arm when you decided to name your fledgling organization "Teen Challenge," and everybody understood that you probably felt that you needed to do something to motivate your pathetically wicked street thug audience to clean up their lives and turn to God. We read the books. We saw the movie. But we are not particularly happy about this law requiring us to look up to these wicked New York street thugs who have such scintillating and fascinating testimonies in that way. Do you really think that we want to hear the details of your elaborate drug dealings by boat or plane in the Everglades, during your speech at the assembly in Miami? You were supposed to be telling us about God and how he has changed your life and how you don't think that way anymore, and about what faith in God can do, and yet there you are outlining everything about what NOT to do. Did you get that theory from the Bible or from the secretions of Agartha? Or perhaps you get all your mojo from the nasty Nordic broomsticks of North Central. You should have gone to North Central yourself, and spare us the hassle of having to put you there. Do you really think that you should be riding so high when your retinue of reformed New York street thugs are struggling with so many lifelong disabilities? You have given new meaning to the term "challenged."

But fortunately for me, I have zero connection to that Pennsylvania-New York machine. I won't need that for anything so don't be trying to sink my ship with their nonsense.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does seem odd how the rock-crushing enterprise of Klein & Cranford has somehow allied itself with the farmer at Borden's dairy and various others in my mother's portfolio, to create a hugely populated pack of troglodytes very skilled at translating from the ancient Phoenician, even though nowadays nobody speaks those dead languages. For what do we need a pack of troglodyte translation hacker technology? Nowadays everyone can just learn English which very much smooths the pace of international commerce. Where there is no market demand, there will be no profits, thus I am not aware of any great need for further troglodyte excavations, always building roads to nowhere, except perhaps in the vein of historical research carried on in the rarefied circles of university scholarship, which requires higher education to an extreme and takes forever. Maybe the future generations will think of better ways to integrate that. But in the meantime, we might prefer to get on with our lives. We don't have time for that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the way I see it, Uncle Winfred is free to dispose of his farm land in whatever way he wants, and it looks like he has bequeathed it to: Klein & Cranford, Ink., a company whose members are probably related to his two daughters although how would I know that, those people are entirely unknown to me, and probably that will not change any time soon, probably never. I do not need their farm land headaches, which are the responsibilities that accompany such the ownership of such a pile of rocks. Sorry but harassing me will not change anything. They do so much enjoy harassing me and making my life miserable but there is no other reward for that other than watching my head explode.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, everybody knows thanks to the paper trail that my grandmother was a bit resentful that Uncle Winfred kept the Texas farm for himself, but on the other hand it made sense that because he was the male son who stayed there and worked the farm while everybody else left, that their mother had left it to him. So that was how that happened and there would be no reason to reopen that ancient can of worms later. I for myself would not particularly want that pile of rocks and the headaches related to it, such as having to fire all of their employees who are so meddlesome. How would I do that? I don't have any way to fix this problem.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does somewhat boggle the mind, why these people are always screaming at me about nothing much.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember having done my genealogical research a few years ago and discovering that Uncle Winfred's other daughter was married to Mr. Cranford. I only remember that they lived somewhere else other than Texas, which explains why they were not there the one time that we visited them Uncle Winfred's family in Texas. Beyond that I know nothing at all about them so there is nothing further to say about that. Whatever. I have no thought of these people sitting on a pile of rocks in Wise County, Texas. The value of a pile of rocks is not known to me, and even if I knew the value of that, it would not really matter that much. I don't particularly want their pile of garbage. If you were really related to me, you would not be hurling things through the ozone layer. You would know how to read and write my name and address and telephone number.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there is always that danger of every little Tom, Dick and Harry wanting to impose his opinion, of whatever quality, upon persons who are not on his payroll and without family or other obligations, whether of opportunity or necessity, requiring that, even if only out of mere courtesy, thus occupying time that could have been otherwise better spent, because we may have other things going on in our heads at the moment, so that it may or may not be convenient to consider irrelevant points of no interest to us. Thus, that is dependent upon the circumstances of the time.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember hearing about the existence of some distant cousins who are the descendants of my mother's Uncle Winfred, of whom I know almost nothing, other than basically they exist, and I would like to keep it that way. What is this nonsense about the need to hire lawyers for a fight over the tiny pittance that is paid for natural gas rights? It is not worth that much money to me that I would need to do something about whatever. I am supposed to be earning my own salary to pay for my own life without them throwing things around, but your conspiring to make my life utterly miserable and crashing my functionality has not been helpful. Thank you NOT!

Which Reminds Me

Yes, we also, likewise, are not fond of Your Greed. And whatever happened to A-Greed? Either way, this Greed picture does not seem to be working very well.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that while I was studying journalism in Virginia, that was way back in the early days of computers, and we would be assigned a diskette, or have to get a diskette, on which to store our files, because those computers had almost no memory of their own, and our editor said to give our disk whatever name we wanted to give to it, so on mine I wrote "Candi's Stuff," I don't know why exactly, probably because that was the place where I would be putting all of my files containing whatever stuff I might write, and my editor seemed to find the name perhaps slightly amusing, although I have since learned that the word "stuff" also has other connotations that I had not thought of at the time, so probably I would not use "Stuff" that way again, but at the time it seemed to be meaningful enough. I am not claiming any of those other connotations but apparently someone upstairs did not get the memo.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do think that it could be amusing, on the one hand, for me to assert the truth  of the fact that 2+2=4 and then to sit back and laugh while watching those little yang-yang brats bending over backwards in the attempt to prove that 2+2=5. On the other hand, why should I be held responsible for provoking them to wrongdoing? Better to evacuate. Can you hear the sound of the silent vacuum? Figure it out for yourself. No, I never said anything. You are just imaging things. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, what was the name of that photographer? I don't mean Mark, I mean that other photographer guy who, yes, I would not want to have to repeat some of the things that he said right there in the office for everyone to hear, and the rumors associated with that. Yes, better to not be there so as not to hear more about that than unavoidably necessary.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I was probably not meaning to be vindictive or vengeful, but to tell the truth, it would be basically impossible for Max to ever find any comforting words of encouragement from me, not to be mean, but given the existing chill in the atmosphere, you really shouldn't be wasting your time harassing me on this point. You won't get anything out of me in regards to that. I really can't say anything about that one way or another, not knowing exactly how all of this wrong information eventually leaked all over the place. From my point of view, it looked like Max was playing a dirty trick on me, but then again maybe there were other persons skewing the picture. I really don't know very much about that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that you will say that I did not deserve to be participating in the Christmas pageant, one of four white girls wearing an angel's costumes with halo and wings, when I am really not blonde. Only two of the four angels were blondes. And I had not even asked for that. It was probably one of the parental arrangements. I don't remember much about that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, and if I should happen to name by black cat Spooky or Midnight, how is that a problem for you? Why would you take that so personally? Are you a cat? Are you spooky? Are you a ghost that only comes out after midnight? Huh?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I see that the busybodies of scripting have been working overtime to set up some useless puns which I am assiduously attempting to avoid mentioning, because I do remember hearing someone talking about the puzzle of whether white or black is skin deep or whether it goes all the way to the bone, but that was not a point that I had thought of elaborating upon.

So their question is whether if my skin is white, does that automatically make me good or angelic, and if their skin is dark, does that automatically make them bad? And thus they will bend over backwards to prove the opposite of that, which is not helpful. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is true that I wrote a short story when I was ten years old, and unfortunately I shared it with my parents and also there was a missionary visiting at the time, Mr. Garlic, who took all of this information home with him to Ecuador, where my story was plugged into their Garlicky machine, so now I can never go home, because unlike Heidi of the children's novel, whose homesickness led to her return to her Alpine home, in America we are stuck here in America because there is no going home to Europe, and don't I remember that in 10th grade analysis of rock music lyrics, someone presented the song by Crosby Stills and Nash, "Wooden Ships," in which it talks about the original pioneers having burned their ships so they have to stay here and build up the New World because there is no going home. Yes, I do remember that song presentation, sort of. There is no going home, only a new season of life hopefully after this is one is completed. Needless to say.

And even so, life in America is not so bad. Yes, there is probably somewhere a long list of creepy weird things that Europeans eat, which are not legal to be offered for sale here in the United States, thanks to the health regulations of our wise and sagacious FDA people. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I don't quite remember when I criticized them, except for when it was a class assignment. Nowadays, I am way beyond caring about that. Life is short and I don't have time to research my memory banks trying to remember who said what more specifically, especially as I did not keep any paper trail for myself. Why is it that they continually criticize me and that is never a problem for them, but if I dare to say anything, maybe even not what they thought, it becomes a national disaster. Ridiculous. You really ought to be more respectful of my silence, because otherwise, if you really insist on hearing words to fulfill your lowest Marphy's Law expectations, maybe I could think up some scripting to satisfy your unrelenting demands, but you probably would not like to hear that from me, and it would be more effective coming from someone that you must respect, which is obviously not me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the name of Samuel Sobokin is the signature that appears on my great-grandfather's passport of 1917, issued at Shanghai. Beyond that, if there was every any conversation between them, I have not seen that. This matter of signing passport applications is a routine duty for persons employed as U.S. consuls, one could easily imagine. But we have already discussed this point more than once ad nauseum. I could discuss it again if necessary, but if only to pad your frivolous trashy novel, I think probably not.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, Rose Alfaro only wishes that she had been in charge of the passport office, specifically in Shanghai in 1916, when something happened there. Perhaps some passports were confiscated, that is the only thing that can be sort of guessed, because new passports were issued in 1917. But why and the details of that are not clear. Given that Rose Alfaro was not in charge of the passport office, then the other clue would be her close connection to Mr. Sobokin who was signing the reissued passports, who seems to be the center of her very tiny universe, and I am only guessing there also. Anyway, that is not very much upon which to base the plot line of your stalled fictional novel. So you just have nothing. And I don't even know how I figured that out by osmosis.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, well, and if you had really valued my commentary on the topic, you should have thought of that before blocking all of the relevant facts and information, so that actually I have no idea what you are talking about.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, well anyway, if we are going to be so extremely picky about the law, I will have no need of some vicious nasty dog Sue Declined to explain to me anything about that, especially since she has no legal place for that. Needless to say. It is not like I ever had a choice of rejecting Beverly's worthless idiot husband from whom she is now divorced, so likewise the same to you.

And even if I had thought of hiring a lawyer, I wouldn't be calling you.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I cannot remember whether I ever discussed with anyone the fact that my mother has a knack for sometimes making up words that don't really exist, and the words sort of sound like real words, and give the impression enough that we sort of understand what she means by that, and someone will say, "You mean —," and she will say yes, and then everybody will laugh about that. Even so, I really don't see what that has to do with anything. None of that excuses your idiotic rantings. We never had any pretensions of compiling a dictionary.

You are bending over backwards to shoehorn and shove me into some role in the irrelevant and boring fictional drama that you had pre-written for somebody else. And sometimes I will answer a question and other times I will just avoid you because I cannot quite get a handle on how to dump that vicious nasty horrible monster Rose Alfaro back in the garbage bucket where she belongs.

Why would I want to live on a planet ruled by horrible Rose Alfaro, always sneering disdainfully and with utter contempt of me? Obviously not. Don't we all have better things to do than consult with vicious nasty Rose Alfaro? That is a worthless device as far as I am concerned.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that if there were some Mueller somehow attached to our family tree, they would be entitled to their two or three cents, just like everybody else. But there is too much noise of rocks being crushed. This is not the time for discussing what our future tyrant and dictator will do to us later.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, speaking of my future income, I can only hope that you were not expecting me to go live on the sidewalks of Los Angeles in a cardboard box. The maintenance of even a minimal lifestyle here in the United States requires at least some amount of funding, even if it is mostly involves a matter of packing up and preparing to move on to the next phase. For whatever limited time remains to me on the earth, I will still need to pay for my own housing, food and clothing for an undetermined number of years plus tithes, God willing. Any surplus beyond tithing of course could be designated for various charitable causes after paying off any debts. No one was saying that we would not considerable reasonable requests for donations in the future, if the creek don't rise and so forth.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I have often heard about the Mueller investigation, but am quite certain that has absolutely nothing to do with me. I am not aware of any Muellers in my own family tree, so I do not see how that has anything to do with me. Can't speak for the Andersons.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I hope that you were not expecting me to exert myself on behalf of or to defend some unidentifiable crooks. Better to relax and sit back and let the authorities do their job, hopefully. Hopefully the crooks are not so high up the ladder that nobody can catch them.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, one of the few things that I have learned about my great-grandmother's father, Archibald, is that he died in 1895, and also that he was from Canada. Her mother died when she was very young and then her father was mostly gone and she was mostly raised by her mother's relatives, although he did appear at least once when she was about 10 years old when he gave her a piano and some other presents. I really do not know much more about that. Maybe some other relatives know more about that than I do, because I really know almost nothing.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is true that my math scores on the SAT were somewhat lackluster, but on the other hand my scores on the English half were somewhere above 90 percent, and how did you score in reading comprehension? But of course you will say that I had an advantage, because English is my native language while English is only your second language. So you would prefer to drag down and disdain by overall scores in order to avoid questions about your lack of reading comprehension. I am only saying probably.