Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember the existence of Josephine, who was in the little school for maybe a couple of years, and was doing her course work in a separate room with Susie, because Susie was doing 9th grade when Sammy and I were in 8th grade, and one day during a special event Josephine and her family performed their famous Filipino dance, in their native costumes, and that was something to see how they have to be quick on their feet to avoid getting their feet caught in those clicking broomsticks or bamboo canes or whatever that was. Interesting.

One day my sister and I told Susie that she was our best friend, and then she told us that Josephine is her best friend and after listing all of her friends in numerical order it turned out that we were numbers 15 and 16. That was a bit shocking to hear, given that Josephine seemed a nothing to us, what was that peasant doing in our missionary kid school, but whatever, next time around we won't be asking Susie any such silly questions. She will just be on her own.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I am sorry if I called you a pig, but anyway I would probably do that again if you don't turn off your machine and stop harassing me continuously. I am NOT your personal doormat, in case I forgot to tell you.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is true that I did dump the Stewarts in the garbage, but of course that was after a lot of hassles they first threw at me, that machine of theirs broke a lot of things, and there was no reason for me to encourage any future social interaction with persons always so eager to be the first to kick me in the backside anyway.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I remember that when I was about 10 or 11 years old, at a sleepover at Susie's house, I was sleeping on a sofa and I had a dream, in which there was a box, and I opened the lid, and the lid flipped open as if by a spring, and the lid hit me on the leg somehow, even though the angle may not seem right, and then I woke up and saw that Susie's brother had come into the room and had thrown a shoe at me, which might not seem very nice, but that is how boys are, and he thought that was funny. So I never got to see what was in the box in my dream because of the shoe.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there is really no law requiring me to explain these unexplainable events of happenstance, these serendipitous moments of history, to these pathetic swamp creatures always clamoring for more more more. They only wish they could understand. I only wish I could understand it all. I believe in the existence of God, who is in control of history and who has all of these puzzle pieces stored away somewhere for a time of future judgment after the resurrection, when all things will be revealed, and it is important for me to say that I entrusted that to Jesus, because there is really no one else who can be trusted in this world. Certainly not you.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the plot line "Switched at Birth" is somewhat popular in fiction, especially soap operas, and worked well for Mark Twain in his "Prince and the Pauper," in which a poor boy is mistaken for the wealthy prince and heir to the king. However, in real life that plot line is really not so convenient as is often imagined. It could actually be better to be a poor person living a happy life than miserably wretched rich person living in opulent splendor that is meaningless.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, well, at least if nobody is going to give me free stuff, likewise I can with impunity leave these  vicious nasty Italian hookers out in the dark, because anyway it was my sister who, after playing at the house of a friend down the street from my grandparents, took the toy she liked home with her and my mother had to make her take it back. So anyway, I hadn't thought of retelling that story, but, yes, if you don't take that back immediately, later on it just becomes another part of the swamp, and why should we care later about all of these written off accountings? You just don't matter.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is very irritating for these people to suddenly not remember what they said in the first place, and myself not knowing enough about that to stick in your eye.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, how well I remember the wallet that was stolen from me while my back was turned. It was a simple matter of going to the lost and found to reclaim it but unfortunately they did not have anything matching the description. Yes, if only I could remember who took it, it would be an easy thing to make arrangements to at least try to reclaim it. But unfortunately there was no clue. The security people I talked to said that probably after anything of value was extracted, it would have been dumped in some outdoor garbage can.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does somewhat boggle the mind to see that vicious nasty haughty arrogant Alfaro Witch masquerading as a Pentecostal. Ha ha ha! That sneeringly sarcastic Alfaro, who only lives by Murphy's Law of Worst Case Scenarios, really ought to be deported to Southern Baptist hell, not lauded by the national honor society for being an illiterate filthy rich snooty snob masquerading as a street urchin. So what if she has made a vow to never watch television? There is nothing inherently virtuous in never watching television. You have to pick what you watch, and thus I choose to ignore sneering insults of the nasty Alfaro.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I know, some of these people seem so friendly and nice when you first meet them, and they are doing you all of these favors and saying nice things, and only later do we learn that they are really Democratic Party operatives whose actual aim is to divide and conquer our family, and weed the Republicans out of the family, for some unknown reason, we are on their target list, as if I should care about the existence of parties, which are only useful one day every couple of years, on voting day, and the rest of the time I do not want to have to interact on that level, thus to inadvertently activate some hidden widget unbeknownst to myself.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I really should not be talking to performance commentators who are probably on the side attempting to patch together some fictional screenplay that would cast me in the worst possible light, a worst case scenario that never really happened. How many times do I have to repeat the same nothingness before you finally learn how to consult a proper dictionary instead of harassing me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, in addition to the discussion of freckles, these Spanish also want to draw connections to the region of La Mancha, renowned as the setting for the novel by Miguel de Cervantes, about Don Quixote, although I really don't see the connection. So the Spanish word "mancha" may be translated as stain or blotch. Even so, I do not see how the condition of having freckles can be so flippantly compared to the existence of black-and-white polka-dot cattle so characteristic of some places. And I could also probably think up some other analogies if I wanted to give myself a bigger headache than I already have.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, someone is wanting to make a big point about freckles, because the Spanish word for freckle is "peca," when used as a noun, but if used as a verb, the word "peca" means "to sin." Ok, so does that say something about freckles or does that say something about the superstitious notions of these smugly self-satisfied Spanish primitives? How can these stupid primitives be saved if they can have no conviction of sin, thinking only of flattering themselves by comparisons to freckled persons. Yes, perhaps a level playing field, lacking in freckled comparisons, would remove that issue from the discussions, quite true. Even so, this suicidal procedure is very inconvenient for me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does make you wonder, were they supposed to tell me something? Tell me what? Which of these many points do you mean? How many stars in the sky? How many spots on a leopard? How many freckles? What is that to you?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does boggle the mind to ponder why you would imagine that I would want to put my own neck on the public chopping block thus to dialogue online with that quarrelsome idiot dentist Norman Young. Obviously I have no thought of reconnecting to Norman and his crew of idiots over at Calvary, although I did learn some interesting things there about their incredibly arrogant egotistical view of themselves being at the center of the universe. Obviously I cannot have that idiotic "Norman" and his silly nitwit wife Terra hammering on my teeth, so I will not be returning.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember hearing something about the existence of Terra who is married to that dentist Norman Young, who so vociferously declared online his utter contempt and hatred of me, and how he will be doing everything to oppose me in whatever I might do or say. Yes, what a lovely thought that, coming from a supposedly fellow Christian. Since when do I care about the idiotic rantings of the dreary horrid "Young" family, always mocking me and making me feel like garbage? What is wrong anyway with those dreary stupid "Young" people? I am not even distantly related to those boring people who were briefly acquaintances during the old days of Oakland Park. I am not going to be calling them back on that. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember during my first year at college, at Evangel, in the college bookstore, I saw on the shelves some books that were listed for classes on Spanish literature, some of which I had already studied in high school. And that was when I decided that I would not continue these Spanish literature studies, because I had already had enough of that. Why would I be asking for more of that stuff that I don't really need? Near the end of my year at Evangel, one morning in the cafeteria at breakfast I met Regina Stone who was there visiting her brother. That was Regina making some rhapsodic commentary about "literatura," which did not make much sense to me. I like literature but not that much. I do not feel any need for a doctoral degree in Spanish literature, that would force me to overdose on some things that don't particularly interest me anyway. I think that I have enough Spanish to get around the block when I need to do that. Everybody has to use the same dictionaries anyway.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is hard for me to understand why I should have to feel sorry for these pitifully wicked Italian magazine mafia witches. I dare not ask why there are here in this tiny country. From what mafia crimes are they hiding or being protected from? I think that it would be highly impolitic and rude for me to ask any question about their nefarious mutterings, so obviously I never ask them any questions. Quite true, needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, oh, was someone talking about Jimmy Hoffa in high school? I don't remember anything about that. All I can say, is that it will be a huge relief for me to return home to the United States, where I will be rid of those dreary Italian broomsticks of whom there is nothing nice to say so it is better to say nothing. Are all Italians such magazine witches? They never really emerge from out of that mechanical mafia persona, always spewing little tidbits of nothing much, so why should I open my mouth thus to provide them with free fodder for their already complicated mess of magazine garbage? No, I would prefer to avoid them whenever possible, because I do not understand where they get this imperious attitude when everybody is only overlooking their faults due to the problem of the balance of power in the Christian world centering on Rome, not because I would want them showing up at my house uninvited. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there is a vague memory in the back of my mind, about the old times of Oakland Park, about a friend of mine telling me that Pastor Max had told a man and his family that they would not be welcome there and to not come back. I cannot remember who those people were, only something about them being thrown out by Max. I cannot keep track of all these people.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, you do have a disingenuous way of trying to shave all of YOUR magazine garbage down my throat. I am only seeing this now, whereas you have been supporting that wicked magazine witch for many years. Your pretense and bluster does not fool us. The magazine witch, Irene or whoever she was, is your product, not mine.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, all of which proves that cheaters can win the game, but there was no reason for me to waste my talents on that lousy game. Does not compute. Danger Danger! Lost in Space again. Well, la di dah!

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I also remember that Linda, who works in a maternity ward, often repeats that same story about the little baby that was born without a brain, and the parents loved him so much. He lived much longer than expected because he did have a sucking reflex. Unfortunately, some other functions are not possible when some parts of the brain are not there, so eventually he died after a few months. Yes, it is a very sad story. Very sad.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember the old days in Oakland Park, when during some parties, everyone would be sitting around listening to the nurses, mainly Linda Crawley, although there were at times some other nurses, discussing various medical cases and medical matters relating to their jobs in the medical profession. Myself not having chosen the medical profession for myself, this information was at times somewhat tedious to have to listen to, given that this is supposed to be a party and not a medical lecture, and also impossible to repeat given that I have no medical training or certification of any type, that I would even want to be reminded of that later. Does not the Bible tells us to overlook one another's faults and bear one another's burdens, so it seems logical to think that spending a few minutes patiently listening to Linda carrying on and on about all of her medical problems might be the least thing that a polite person could do under such circumstances. Even so, now that we have learned that complaints were lodged by the Italians about that, I have to say that, it really would be interesting to learn more about why these persnickety Italian hookers think that it would be funny to try to reengineer things so as to push Linda's filthy garbage out of my mouth. Unfortunately for them, I am too smart to fall for that trap.

Firstly, I think that we should let these Italian hookers and/or cliquy five bores vomit themselves, so that we can more clearly discern between the forest and the trees.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit awkward to suddenly notice these people gunning at me, who I was mostly trying to avoid, because look at all of their bad hair jokes, and if I laugh at that, I would be the one to get the back end of the stick, while there they are rocketing straight to the top, as if they themselves were not the source of that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, and if you insist on this figures of speech war, we will send you back to the subordinate ESOL class where you belong. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, who does not remember the analogous reference to the "mecca" of the Midwest, which seems to have puzzled some persons who are not familiar with these various figures of speech of the English language, and what language does not have figures of speech, and how can you say that English was your college major and yet seemingly not know how to correctly process these little bumps in the road of conversation, thus throwing yourself to a place that was never intended, obviously? Yes, sometimes these figures of speech are overdone to distraction and not particularly humorous, but just to cut people's heads off seems awfully severe. You don't deserve the power of capital punishment with that rotten attitude of yours. So we are not going to repeat that in today's much changed environment, obviously, much less speak to your pickled prune envoy ever again in this lifetime.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, and who are you to lecture me about languages, you repugnant one-celled amoeba? I will never be defined by some pathetically stupid Beastie Bimbo Void in Louisiana. Do you really think that I am going to sit here forever listening to you insult my grandmother and about how it was something that she said although you cannot quite remember what happened or why I should care about your direct pipeline to hell? If you don't find me down there when you get thre, you will understand that I did not ask to be born into this pile of paperwork. I don't even know what happened exactly, much less how to fix that or why I should care about your mental issues.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, George Washington could not tell a lie, in his admittance of chopping down the cherry tree, when pressed on this point, and went on to be elected the first president of these great United States. Even so, I cannot see what that has to do with the price of tea in China.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, sometimes I wonder if our former co-worker Judy Vik still lives around here. I later heard that she was working for the Pompano Pelican, but don't know if she is still there. She was a nice person, maybe not the most literary fanciful writer, but she wrote many very detailed articles that did the job that was required in a responsible way, especially she was into the schools. Of course, who can forget our managing editor Rick Haydan complimenting in that way Judy Vik's amazingly prodigious output. She never seemed to have any writer's blocks. Must be nice.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember hearing about the Salvadoran dictator who was said to be afraid of a fly, a Hindu influence there not further studied by me, and yet not embarrassed to massacre thousands of his people, although that was nearly a hundred years ago. How does that make any sense? I can only say that I do not know anything about it. I only know what I heard or read somewhere. What's to say?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I sometimes see that Sharon Turner had some very peculiar ideas about all of these things, not meaning to be too vengeful, but it is no longer possible to believe that Sharon was ever had a brain in her empty head, much less any sense of humor, but of couse when you take such a scorched earth approach to everything, and that is one way to burn all of your bridges behind you, probably no one will ever want to talk to Sharon ever again in this lifetime. The damage is done.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, and I suppose that you are angling to have me repeat something that I overheard Jill and Linda saying about Sharon and Ronald and David, as if I even care what Jill and Linda say about anything. I am trying to forget about Jill and Linda, those boring gossips. They certainly are full of interesting gossipy tidbits, but, yes, why should I have to repeat that when, anyway, you can just get it directly from Jill and Linda and spare me the trouble of having to vomit whatever they say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it must seem confusing for you, so wickedly endeavoring to throw me to the dogs, when actually your question is something about how, if it was your own daughter Sharon Wetstun whose (Honduran?) husband turned gay, so does that make her a dike by omission of a husband?

And are all Hondurans so pathetically stupid and meddlesome as that worthless idiot Ronald?

How were we to know that Sharon has such a huge retinue of these horribly stupid Honduran idiots making a mess behind the scenes? I never talked to those stupid people, especially not after that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that Tim Treejunk was overheard to say that he could never deny or refuse to take a double dog dare. I vaguely remember overhearing him saying that, but I myself never said any such ridiculous thing, which does make you wonder what is this script they are reading from that I have not yet seen, but it wasn't important.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it does seem that we need to be discussing with the post office about having this Italian mail redirected to the fleabag Wilsons who are so skilled at building these reverse engineered wickedly dirty bombs, which is the only thing they seem to care about, thus to broadcast their irrelevant message of no concern to me. Personally, I don't need the Wilson dirty bomber tactics for anything, but I cannot speak for the Wilsons. Let the Wilsons vomit themselves without involving me. I really have no idea what their problem is.

These double dog dares get very useless when both sides are starting off on the wrong foot.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I think that I remember in high school that one of the few movies that were shown to us during school was the original "Chariots of the Gods," which I also remembered that my cousin David had read the book and had talked about that as the basis for his ideas of religion, which in David's case meant that he was favoring the agnostic or atheistic view of things. Although I never did read that book, my ideas of the movie and more recently TV shows and videos are somewhat different than my first impressions, although I mostly would prefer to not talk about that because basically there are many things that I cannot understand about that. I tend to think that someday maybe God will explain everything more fully when we get there eventually, but in the meantime there is only so much of that stuff that I can sort of absorb before it all becomes just too much noise without a context.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit awkward having some horribly drunken vintage Italians on the Bay pretending to be related to us, and now having learned a bit more about their "Magazine" language, one can easily see how the slightest word and/or phrase could probably set them off into some bizarre tizzy, and the next thing one knows, one is thrown to the wolves or dogs, and there is no help, not even having any idea of what was the problem or else why I should care about that. I am leaving and this won't be my problem later. I will just be gone.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is quite annoying the way these Baptist Bells and chocolate-coated peanut butter cups are wanting to set themselves up as the aristocracy who will rule over those pathetically poor and low-level Pentecostal peasants in the new scheme of things to come. I don't particularly like this picture very much, getting more and more annoyed with their airs of being born with a silver spoon in their mouths, but what to do or say about it is another thing too politically explosive for me to handle. I tried to be nice but they are taking that too far. Needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, don't we all think that Bruce Blockhead is such a nuisance, but that is not really a reason to say something more about him. He only wishes that the entire universe revolved around himself.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit annoying to go there and find that the very persons, always so tediously contentious and angling for a useless and futile confrontation, that we are studiously and deftly avoiding and/or evading so as to not clash and thus give opportunity for the enemies of my country and/or religion to gloat and puff themselves up far beyond measure, you have elevated to the most incredible heights of arrogance and haughty disdain. I just have nothing to add to that. There is nothing for me to "do" about that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I have become vaguely aware that a pack of annoying Methodist stiffs, deader than door knobs, are wanting to open a can of worms in regards to anyone by the name of Calkins, who they imagine to be aware of the existence of Harvey and Helen and/or Elmo or Mary, even though actually we were not aware of their existence, much less thinking about them, and never claimed to be their direct descendants. The 1640 voyage of Hugh explains the name, and whatever they did with that does affect all of us in some way, although indirectly. Even so, I do not see why I should be troubled by a pack of scavengers from the Methodist scrap heap, or else why they should be allowed to trouble me. There is actually nothing particularly special about a boring pack of Methodist stiffs from Michigan.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I seem to remember the Catholics admitting that they have their own doctrinal problems in various religious practices that are popular with the masses, even if you get very nitpicky about these certain points you might find more flaws there than you might at first imagine, lest they get so uppity in their anti-Protestant maneuverings, needless to say. And next I suppose that you will be expecting me to demand indulgences for sale, even though we already know how that did not work out very well either, historically.