My Dear Children;
Your mother is still warm and snug and asleep in bed this Sunday morning, while I have been up for an hour chopping and frying and stirring things together in the slow cooker for dinner today at 12:30. I'm calling it Potatoes & Sausage Italiano.
There are a lot of new people moved into our senior apartment building, so I'm hoping to entice some of them to come to our door for a free meal today.
One guy in particular, named Tom Brady, is a puzzle. He says he's retired and doesn't do much of anything. Then the next moment he claims to be getting ready for playing in the Super Bowl. I think he's delusional and ought to be sent to the laughing academy. But you never know --- people can surprise you. I once knew a guy who claimed he shot an elephant in his pajamas. You know the rest of that story. And if you don't you should be ashamed of your ignorance when it comes to the History of American Film Comedy.
Do you have much trouble blowing your nose? I'm asking for a friend.
Wouldn't it be great if gummy bears ruled the planet? No more war or teeth.
I'm just throwing this out there for general consideration, but if all you kids pooled your resources together I'm sure you could get your mother and I a decent beach condo in Hawaii. Just think of all the benefits this would have for you, such as . . . um, well, some kind of tax write off?
I often dream of tropical beaches when I'm exercising with your mother at the Rec Center. It is pleasant to sit on a stationary bicycle, peddling like mad, and thinking of those gorgeous humid sunrises on the beach in Thailand. The smell of hyacinth and marine garbage mingled together. Sea glass strewn about the beach like gemstones. The susurration of endless tepid waves. And elephants scurrying about, serving mangoes with sticky rice, covered in coconut syrup on a banana leaf. You don't get that at IHOP.
Well, the media seem to think we are soon going to war with Russia over the Ukraine. I'm just grateful that none of you children were ever involved in an active shooting war. I hope our grand kids are spared that as well. But if it comes, I'm thinking it might just be a hacking war where we hack the Russian infrastructure and they hack ours until one or the other is destroyed. Then we will descend back into the Analog Age and all turn into morlocks. The only real winners will be the Chinese, who are just waiting to overrun the Pacific Rim.
This astute political analysis is brought to you by the Gummibarchen Company, makers of fruit flavored prions since 1920.
My friend Rob Reed, who lives in Wailuku, Hawaii, by the way, emails me often that he enjoys my writing but never bothers to look up the hard words. I suppose you kids never look them up, either. Yet it's so easy to do while you're online! If you want to improve your vocabulary all you have to do is look up all the strange and foreign words I use in my emails to you and you'll be talking erudite before you can say 'Bob's your uncle.'
On the other hand, constantly learning new words can make a person awfully talkative. They never shut up. But rattle on and on, like a baby with a new maraca. So you just keep on ignoring the lexiconic bonanza I offer up in each new email. You don't want to suffer from a debilitating case of logorrhea.
I always carried a pocket dictionary with me when I was reading, as a kid. This was especially vital when I read authors like S.J. Perelman or even the Sherlock Holmes stories.
Egad! I just realized that this very email is a prime example of logorrhea -- I am rambling on and on with no real purpose besides watching the letters form into words, then form into paragraphs -- hoping that the whole thing will jell into something cohesive and comprehensible. Alas, it does not appear that is happening. So I will end this electronic missive by bidding you adieu and beste hilsener until tomorrow.
Love,
Heinie Manush.
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