Which Reminds Me

I vaguely remember that Lori Reece did not like being teased by someone in high school about "Reese's pieces." She is apparently not a purveyor of peanut butter cups, and adamantly opposed to persons who would suggest otherwise. If there was some other meaning to that exchange I really would not know. I only vaguely remember overhearing some exchange along those lines.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is somewhat awkward these pathetically stupid Southern Baptists pretending to own the universe when actually the Bells and Reese's Pieces were never really my friends and I really don't care if I never hear from them after high school. The misery of high school is best forgotten or skipped over in a gracious way. I can't have Mr. Bell always sticking my nose in it, as if I were a dog to be trained. No, never.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I sort of understand about these immigrant whiners having a huge guano chip on their shoulders, wanting to make their mark on the nation by sticking it to those native citizens who came before them, and so forth, imagining that we will be impressed by their Jack and the Beanstalk blueprint for killing the Giant white people. Ummm. Really. And the result would be our country's degenerating into some Balkanized, war-plagued Third World Country. Eventually. Whatever. As if I should care.
In fact, I am very white, which only means that I find their intrigues highly insulting.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is rather awkward to have these Hittenberger people pretending to be acquainted with us. Well, maybe we did meet once or twice, maybe at MK Retreat, but those days have receded now into the distant, barely remembered past. I wasn't going to say anything about the Hits as I can only vaguely recall to mind of whom you speak, so it is rather awkward to be asked whether I know them, when, anyway, it is highly questionable whether they would care to admit to knowing anything about me given their hostile online expressions. Certainly, there is not much history there to speak of. I noticed by Facebook spying that one of Jeff's sisters married a Rockefeller, although they have yet to explain whether they are actually connected to the rich family of Standard Oil Company, to whom, by the way, I am not in any way connected. Never mind about Marvin, of whose existence I am only vaguely aware now having done my genealogy research on Ancestry.com. So all of these Christian references to the "Rock" of Ages and so forth are clearly are not intended to reference the Rockefellers in any way. Actually I would rather die than have some such creepy rich man trying to function as some kind of Masonic "Pimp" on my so-called "behalf." And anyway, my parents voted for Nixon, not Johnson. I never promised to be a lifelong Republican party and I could say pretty much the same thing about the Democrat party. Parties are overrated. The Johnsons have nothing intelligent to say to me. Who was that distant cousin of my grandmother's who once worked for Lady Bird? I don't remember her or them. I once saw them at the U.S. Embassy in El Salvador, where Lady Bird sent her photographer to snap a shot of the two little white girls drowning in a sea of browns, watching them through the fence. But we are no longer there in that photograph and Lady Bird is dead. The Johnsons are thus are no longer welcome to revisit a photo they sought to abuse.

Which Reminds Me

I think I might have met someone who was from Meridian, Mississippi, but I really don't quite remember. Was it James Sharp or Gary Hatch? Definitely one of those hippie guys who hung out with Cori during college. I don't know why I think that Barbara Miller was from Jackson, Mississippi. I could be wrong about that. Anyway, I don't have any French maps so I really wouldn't know anything about that.

Which Reminds Me

I am thinking that Debbie Lange actually might be Dutch, with a name that sounds like that, whereas if I ever said that I was going to be going Dutch I would only be meaning that I would not be paying for her plate of nondescript quasi-edibles, only paying for my own stuff at lunch, thanks anyway, and nothing more than that. Well, if you choose to believe that makes me not generous, well then believe whatever you will.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, if only I had millions of dollars to fend off the hostile takeover antics of the creepy Moores who have made themselves so obnoxious to us peaceful earth dwellers. Well, my own great-great-grandmother was a Moore but that was a whole different story. The Moores of England are not that much akin to the Johnny-come-lately Moores of Lebanon. Perhaps they do share a fanatical sense of neatfreakineness in terms of housecleaning but, still, a broomstick alone does not constitute a legal deed of possession. Any domestic body can wield a broomstick and yet never get deep enough to find the oil rights. It is more complicated than that.