No real revelations

I am back. I was out with some of the boys on Thursday. They did ask for a sound out or at least a mention. I will get to that shortly. I wanted to comment on some feedback they were kind enough to give me. It was something that had occurred to me as I was writing. I was falling into the habit of writing about the Outlaws, especially the mental deterioration of my father in law. I knew that I was doing it and I also sensed that it was no longer funny, just sad. I am thinking that if I had some "happy" melody and musical feel, I could put those sad stories to music and it would be a masterpiece--juxtaposing a "happy" sound with melancholy or emotionally painful lyrics. In short, it would be like a song from The Shins. Given that those stories are not put to music, I will refrain from writing about my weekly visits to the "madhouse" unless there is something cruelly funny.

Thursday was quite the evening. Willie was in fine form. He had claimed to have quit drinking, though when I had arrived, late, after eight, he was on his third double Jack Daniels and coke. I, and perhaps it was watching too much "Animal House" in my formative years, prefer my JD on ice without the mix. It was good to see Sambo as he had to trek into the city from his expansive suburban existence. 53 was his mellow self. He carries a big burden. He is single and has to carry the married dudes envy of being able to whore, man-whore, himself. That is not him or his personality, so he got an earful from us all on that one.

Not to put any pressure on him, but our fantasies are riding on him. Should he stumble, like a race horse who pulls up lame, it is the glue factory for him. Can you live with that pressure now 53?

The big shout out goes to JLC. He put down his radio and stopped listening to Wally Crouter long enough to enjoy his meal. He was in good form and it was excellent to see all those dudes again. I would like to do it more often, but damn if other things, my own laziness and insanity, do not get in the way.

I am fabulously socially anti-social. I am a walking contradiction. I could never figure out if I were a pig with class or someone with class who is a pig. I still cannot figure it out. I will one day, then I will die. Well, I will die in event, and there ain't nothing funny about that, unless you are able to profit from it (win the Madman Dead Pool). Good luck. Ciao!