Which Reminds Me

Oh, is the Emerson version an alternative to the dreary Wilson version? I wasn't paying attention to that. Hopefully someone took care to pay off the dreary Riffle Riff-Raff because we don't want to be hearing sounds of a hostile takeover from those dreary horrid people. That would be scary when they are so completely unknown to us, so completely unrelated to anything that we care to learn more about. Basically, my salvation depends no not going to hell with you. Sorry if that sounds mean but, anyway, those events all happened in 1950 and there is much water under the bridge since then.

Oh, did you all not get the memo? You are all fired. Go get a job of your own. Double check the names on your paycheck and you will see that my name is not there. Do I owe you something? No, I don't think that I do. You will need to get your living elsewhere from now on, which is what you were trained for, to take care of yourself after we are gone. The Emancipation Proclamation was not issued to enslave me in reverse. No, it was designed to release you from having to deliver services to me without a paycheck. And the reverse is also true. I will be cleaning my own bathroom from now on. I will be doing my own stuff without any help from you and yours. So, fine, go away. Get lost. I don't want to be hearing your shrill voice screeching like fingernails on a chalkboard after the mission has lost its original meaning and purpose. I think that I have delivered the work services more or less on schedule so there is nothing else that I need to discuss with regards to that other than where is my paycheck. We all need our paychecks delivered more or less on schedule. Goodbye.

Which Reminds Me

In a way I can see why Louisiana is so desperate to recruit someone to go there and help them with the show. After all, nobody imagines that Miriam can sing and dance. Not that Miriam. I mean Miriam Denham who is from Louisiana. I really must defer to the joke writing skills of Miriam. Even if she might resemble a baked potato onstage, one imagines that you could find a wealth of gossipy tidbits and scuttlebutt about Louisiana if you would start pumping her, not me. I don't do that. My brain doesn't work that way. You can't get something from nothing. You have got to go where the gossip flows and that would be Miriam.

Which Reminds Me

In reading the diaries of great-grandmothers, we saw her collecting monies from various people, perhaps the Richardsons. Also, she talks about burning some paperwork, so who knows if there is any paper trail left to follow. Yet all this chatter does leave one wondering who was left holding the bag, of money that is, if there was any, but I don't know. I only know that I don't have it.

Which Reminds Me

I seem to remember hearing the story told of how someone put something on the chair of Miss Nafsker before she sat down on it, a tack perhaps, done by perhaps Craig, a rather immature boy, and besides that a Canadian. That wasn't very nice. Even if Miss Nafsker's personality was a bit irritating to him, that was not a nice thing to do to anyone. Who does that? But of course, these Canadians are so mean and nasty and besides that it is amazing how they don't self-censor their own bad behavior and rotten attitudes. They just burst in here like bulls in a china shop, imagining that we aren't going to notice that. Hmmmm....

Which Reminds Me

If you are looking for a villain to prosecute, I would suggest that you explore the evil intentions of Mr. Woolsey. Why is this wicked man, Mr. Woolsey, so interested in basically killing and slaughtering us? Whence Mr. Woolsey's odd fascination with the name of Catherine? Why so sheltered and protected by Louisiana's house of ill repute? Mr. Woolsey presents nothing to commend himself that we can see, only a name and various innuendos without any actual paperwork to explain his presence on the Grand Jury. What are we to make of that? We are powerless victims of some very wicked and powerful liars as far as I can tell, although I really have no idea what happened.

Which Reminds Me

Broadway Mark came to our Christian college campus and gave a speech about his experiences as pianist for a road show promoting abysmally wicked aspects of Texas history. He talked about the wild parties after the show as being the most memorable aspect of that, at least to him. Oh! So obviously his speech did not make a big impression at our Christian college, needless to say. Why do I have to explain this obvious point? How stupid can you be? How rude is Modesto to insert their stupid Hollywood nose into that worthless pile of garbage? Obviously, Modesto has sold its soul to those ugly dogs, needless to say.

We also heard Mark's voice online talking about how he is so shy of the spotlight, not wanting to detract by confusion from the accomplishments of the harmonica player from San Francisco, whose name is identical to his. Ok, fine.

Mark needs to be free to focus his attentions on those elderly aging Broadway biddies whose well established stage careers allow them to pay him big bucks to accompany their songstress acts in cabarets and other venues. Ok, fine.

Perhaps Mark had not heard that I am changing careers now and won't be going there. So if I someday get around to writing a book requiring a depth of comprehension of various psychological and theological points, I won't be needing the services of simple-minded party boy Broadway Mark. Needless to say.

Broadway shows are all about assembling a formulaic number of automatic widgets in such a way that people may be stimulated to cheer for the hero and boo the villain, thus selling X number of tickets. Ditto to Hollywood.

But for us regular folks life, the truth, is more complicated than that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, why am I getting all these Letters of Marque? Something you may need to get around on the High Seas perhaps. But then, oh no, I see that you are talking about Broadway Mark. Oh, that Mark. I only met him personally once in my entire life and I don't think he liked me. He almost immediately said that he would not help me. Ok, so, whatever. Fine. Mark is not going to help me. Ok, fine. Help me what? He didn't get specific. He just said "help," or rather "not help," in whatever sense of the word "help" might mean to him, or you, or everyone else in the room who overheard that, one would easily imagine.

Anyway, one would easily imagine that Broadway Mark has long since married his long-time girlfriend, the one who was seen accompanying him on visits to our campus, although I haven't heard anything specific about that. One would easily imagine that Mark, with his many talents, would have risen to the top of the music profession there in New York City.

Mark once came to our campus and gave a speech about his experiences touring with a Broadway road show. He described the lengthy parties that follow the show, where all the performers run around acting crazy in their hotel rooms. So that was, well, interesting? So we hope that Mark lives happily ever after in NYC but we were not planning to follow him there. Most of us have more modest ambitions. We have no illusions of being able to compete in such a competitive environment. Or at least I speak for myself.