Summer, 1987

                                              Mission Beach, San Diego California June 1987

She'd come to San Diego
                       To get out of the Florida heat
Claimed she didn't like the tan
                       She got on Vero Beach
She tried to work my crossword
                       While I tried to work my line
Thought I was getting in good
                       Before I had a clue what I was getting into

                                                          See her riding that moped

                                                          In a denim skirt

                                                          Hair tied back

                                                          She flipped it when she flirt

                                                  Hoping to see her in the morning

                                                  In my best tee-shirt

                                                  Walking through the alley

                                                  Off Mission near Seagirt

She moved up on Chalcedony

And I became a jerk

Went up to Lancaster 

Looking for steady work

Years have tumbled past

                                    Though it feels like yesterday

When we had a our golden moments

                                    Dancing in a hurricane

Garnet and Everts never stood a chance

                                    As we entertained the neighbors

With our dystopian romance

                                    Those are the days against which

All others are measured

                                     

                                    

                                    

                   

                     
                        




                                                      

Something To Grab For

Ever wake up and have the sudden realization that you've survived all of your dumb-shit mistakes and bad decisions (so far), and that's a whooping big deal to be grateful for?

I have.

Oh Geez, Not The "Alternate Reality" Cliché

Oh yeah, it's grown so old and stale now. The concept of an alternate reality or parallel universe, or whatever term is currently in vogue to describe the idea that there is, in a universe (or multiverse) as indescribably large (it's really, really big) as the one we exist in, the possibility that, in some other far-flung galaxy, a person exactly like you is living a life exactly like yours on a planet exactly like ours...except the trees are blue and the sky is green.

And he or she has a hyphenated name, like Kal-el or She-ra.

This was the content of tonight's conversation. Whether or not another you existed somewhere in the Universe. 

I need to find more friends interested in sports, or sitcoms, or something other than Sci-Fi. This topic gave me a headache.

I will allow that there is the possibility that somewhere in the trillion quadrillion zillion square miles of the Universe (that's just an estimate - it's probably bigger) there just may be another bored moron just like me writing some meandering diatribe that delves into the possibility that there just may be another bored moron just like me writing some meandering...but given the probability factors...well, it's  debatable.

In defense of my point, I offer up life on this planet. There are billions upon billions of life forms on this planet. Just in insects alone it has been estimated that there are 10 Quintilian of 'em scurrying around at any one time.

That's a lot of insects. And not a one of them are exactly alike. 

The possibility that there may be two people exactly alike can no doubt be proven mathematically, but so far it hasn't actually happened. Not in the recorded history of humans on this planet, that is. Not once. 

Which is itself, phenomenal. How much differentiation can their be? 

You would think that, given the relatively small pool to work with (three major racial types, 23 chromosomal pairs (3 billion DNA base pair, twice that in the diploid genome), there would be a huge amount of overlap, and just by accident somehow, a perfect duplicate or two would be produced.

Some people think that perfect duplicates have happened, such as the case with Dolly, the first cloned sheep. But that is not the case. The process which created Dolly (and like animals) left a little of the donor mitochondrial DNA behind, resulting in a slightly different copy of the original.

Every organism that has been cloned by humans, either naturally (as is the case with twins - twins are basically clones) or unnaturally (tadpoles, mules, camels, etc.) have been similar genetically...to a degree. But none have been similar in temperament or personality.

And that right there is the catch. Temperament and personality. Scientists have found differences in temperament and personality between ants. It's incredible how even the most elementary of organisms react to provocation or stimulation differently.

But I believe it is also necessary  not just here on earth, but throughout the Universe. I believe that someday a much bigger brain than mine will prove that it is absolutely essential to the continued existence of the Universe that no two lifeforms ever be exactly alike. 

Two lifeforms, thinking the exact same thoughts, feeling the exact same emotions, at the exact same time, whether under blue skies or green, would probably violate some unknown law of nature and result in the immediate collapse of all known and unknown realities.

I wonder if anyone else has thought of that? Probably...in a universe this big, the chances of a lone, original thought have got to be infinitesimally slim.

Roll Over Raymond Chandler

   "I need your word on this Floyd. I need you to swear on a stack of Bibles piled to the moon that not a peep of this will ever escape your lips unless I'm done in - I'm serious, it's that serious."
   "You know I can't make that kind of a promise Sid - I'm an atheist. I'll tell you what, I'll swear on my kids lives. How's that?"
   "Which kids -from the first or third marriage?"
   "All of 'em Sid, what the hell. Now sit down - you want a Scotch? I have some good stuff - Walker Blue, smoootthh!"
    Sidney Meltzer eased cautiously into the well-worn leather of the cigar chair by the window in Floyd Yeats' office. His nervous eyes followed Floyd from the small refrigerator to the dry bar to the sink, scrutinizing every movement as if he might be called upon to recollect his friends actions under oath some day.
   "Here you go Sid - two fingers on the rocks. Now, what the hell has got your panties all wadded up?'
   "Floyd, you and I go way back - far enough back that you know I've never been one to look for trouble. Well, trouble fell into my lap this afternoon and there is no way I can deal with it alone. This is the kind of trouble that a man can either get very rich or very dead from, and I'm thinking I'd prefer the former."
   "Kerist Sid, cut with the dramatics, what the hell you got?"
   "Just this."
   Sidney Meltzer took a manilla envelope that had been folded in half from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Floyd. Floyd knew it contained a CD the second his fingers grabbed it.
   "What's on the disc?"
   "Nothing you really want to watch. Just the current governor of this great state and two of his aides having a real good time in a hot tub. No lube."
   Floyd dropped the envelope as if it had suddenly burst into flames. His jaw dropped as his eyes swept over the front page of the newspaper on his desk. The full color picture showed the governor at his desk flanked on either side by his aides Miles Elliot and Alan Teagden. The headline, In 48 point font, stated boldy, "Gay Marriage Ban Signed".
                      

I Could Probably Find The Forest If All These Damn Trees Would Stop Blocking My View

Some have said
"Why are you so critical? Aren't you an artist?"
Yes, but I'm not a leech

Some have said
"Didn't you grow up in poverty? Why not get what you can?"
Our poverty was only physical, not of the soul

Some have said
"Don't you know the rich are rapists?
You've got to stick it to the man!"

It's not what I could gain, it's what I might lose

A Night In Tijuana, If I Remember Correctly

Just like space 
The chances are endless
In this place
You're never friendless
                             Dancing like a firecracker
                             Dancing like a linebacker
                             Flail your arms 
                             Twist your tongue
                             Soda cracker
                             Lets have some fun
                  French horns
                  Chewing gum
                  Radiators
                  Coke and rum
                                  Thirty minutes on the parquet
                                  Thirty donkeys made of papier-mache
                                  Bite the pepper
                                  Gulp down water
                                  Tequila
                                  Will only make it hotter  
                          Flash a smile 
                          Spinning cat
                          Rolled tacos
                          Welcome back
                                         Synchronicity
                                         Elemental
                                         Pharisees
                                         Dirty pretty
                                         Sentimental
                                         Chimpanzees
                                         Itty-bitty
                                         Oriental
                                         PHD's








...and then I woke up in the Volvo.
                                     
             

Never Wanted To Be A Plowboy

Today is April 23rd. Six more inches of snow fell last night. 

Winter is refusing to loosen it's grip

Snow keeps falling without regard

For the new rose bushes planted last Sunday

When it was sunny and warm, unlike Monday

When it snowed

Snow flurries, slippery slurry

Ice on the windshield

light refraction, everything's blurry

When it snows

Fat dark clouds on the northern horizon

Patiently waiting for their chance to pounce

Not a flake has fallen since 10am

Now it's time to hit the road again

So it snows

Snow flurries, slippery slurry

Ice on the windshield

light refraction, everything's blurry

Damn snow

The Curse Of The Social Luddite

A couple hundred years ago in England, there was a short lived, very limited in range and effect, revolution against modern technology.

Yes, a couple hundred years ago, revolution, against modern technology.

It was the early years of what would become known as the industrial revolution, and the modern technology was the power loom. These new-fangled contraptions made it possible to replace skilled, somewhat well-compensated artisans with unskilled, underpaid manual laborers, and that didn't sit too well with the aforementioned skilled artisans.

As it pretty much put them out of work.

These masters of the handloom soon started attacking mechanised cotton mills and other such factories that churned out fabrics and lace cheaply and in huge quantity. They refused to adapt to the changing tide, choosing instead to fight, to resist.

They supposedly were named after a youth, Ned Ludd, who had smashed two machines that he saw as threats to his livelihood.

Of course, it didn't take long for the British government to make machine-breaking and any other form of industrial sabotage not only a criminal act, but a capital crime. That's right - take a sledge to a Jacquard loom, get strung up.

Governments controlled by owners of the means of production are touchy like that.

That 6 year period of civil disobedience some two hundred years ago is remembered today not only by those who are opposed to industrialisation, but also to new technologies. These people are known collectively as Neo-Luddites.

Neo-Luddites want a return to what they envision as simpler, less-stressful times.

But those people are not what this is about. This is about people who refuse to let go of the outdated, outmoded, rusted-relics of social structures that were developed hundreds and hundreds of years ago and have long since lost any relevance to life as we know it.

These are people who want a return to less-enlightened times, when people's lives were dictated by superstitous nonsense and fear.

Yeah, yeah, I can hear a few voices saying that is still how things are, but those voices are either being blatantly facetious or have blinded themselves to the obvious.

The people I am speaking of, the ones determined to live in pre-Columbian times, are people I refer to as Social Luddites. They are the people who are bound and determined to hold on to cultural, political, or religious social structures regardless of how irrelevant they have become.

These are the people who refuse to, or simply cannot, understand that the world has changed dramatically since the end of WWII.

I might be talking out of my NyQuil-addled ass here, but for any literate person on the surface of this planet to still hold the belief that there are people who have a right to rule because they were born into a "royal" family, that women should be treated as property, that individuals are "subjects" and not citizens, that one person should be subservient to another based on a supposed birthright...well, that's just crazy talk.

It is 2013. There are 7 billion people clinging to this freaking rock, and as far as I'm concerned all of us have the right to live the lives of our own choosing under the following proviso:

Do nothing that takes advantage of, or harms, another human being.

I know I have expressed that philosophy before, but in light of what happened in Boston this past week, and what is happening in Syria, Nigeria, Somalia, etc., I feel the need to reiterate.

If everyone walking around with the idea that their way is the only way - or more likely, the way that is being espoused by their "great leader" is the only way, could just somehow find the wherewithal to ask themselves if what they are thinking, what they are doing, may in any way, mean, or form take advantage of or harm another human being, and if it does, not do it, then this will be a much better planet to live on.

And that's what it's all all about, isn't it? Finding a way to improve living on this rock somehow, someway?

Variation On An Old Jewish Joke

Standing in line at King Soopers using my phone to read the online edition of Alalam News when a friend I hadn't seen in awhile came up and said hello. We chatted for a bit and then he noticed what was on my screen. "What the hell Curby*, why are you reading Alalam News? Those people hate us. Don't tell me you've become a sympathizer, or worse, a convert!"

"Relax, bro, relax," I replied. "All I read about in American papers and websites is how this country is falling behind the rest of the world in nearly everything - our healthcare system sucks, our politicians are corrupt twits, our kids are mindless dolts who can't math or science, inbred extremists from every corner are undermining the civil rights of everyone they disagree with, etc. However, when I read Alalam I discover that America is dominating the arts and entertainment fields, that our western culture is omnipresent, and America is so large and in charge of the world's economy that we're about to take over the entire planet... makes me feel much prouder to be an American."






*Curby is how CRB is pronounced.

The Challenge Of Being Original

Is it still practical to think that an artist of any stripe can be confined to his or her own ideas when it comes to the creation of art? Or has the mass distribution of images and ideas that has been made possible over the past few centuries by photography, cinema, television, and of course the Internet made avoiding the influence of other creative minds impossible?

Every artist I've ever known has been influenced by some other artist, and some of the best have managed to synthesize what has influenced them into a new aesthetic - not simply creating a variation on a theme or adding an embellishment or two, but actually creating something so unique that it could stand on it's own.

Most, of course, do not. Most simply imitate, and though the time-worn cliche states that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, the reality is that while an imitator may strike gold once in awhile, it's only the originators that truly are remembered and revered.

Think in terms of music. The Rolling Stones (aka the band that would not die) took various elements that influenced them and formulated a new sound, angrier and edgier than the blues and far more blatantly sexual than the croonings of Adam Faith and Cliff Richard - Jagger and company turbo-charge skiffle while adding minor chords and Mick's swaggering sneer is probably the simplest way to put it - and since then thousands and thousands of imitators have sprung up.

But the likes of the Bluesicians, The Shades 5, Sonny Stewart & The Dynamos, etc., are, if not completely forgotten, then remembered primarily as cover bands that could never crack out of the shell they were born in. They could not come up with their own twist on the theme, or maybe they just didn't want to.

Imitation is flattery, and that's fine, but it's also drudgery. Imitation is the suburbs, fast food, and mass-marketed rebellion (insert reference to Hot Topic here).

Being Derivative is the bane of any artist's existence. In the years before the mass dissemination of ideas it was no doubt easier to create something new and clever. However, when you consider that most trades, and thus most skills, were handed down from family member to family member or learned in a guild of some sort, then it is self-evident that derivative was the norm well before the existence of the printing press.

Most artists served decades long apprenticeships to masters, carefully studying their techniques, and even working on pieces that would be signed by the master, which meant that these artist spent their time as apprentices learning to create exactly as their masters.

Somehow though, many of the apprentices were able to break free from the parameters established by the guilds or studios they worked in and create something innovative. The Durers, Homers, Turners and so many more all worked as apprentices and all managed to break free and realise their own unique visions.

Which shows that, even if an artist is hampered by an overabundance of influences, that it in no way means an artist's ability to evolve and innovate will be hindered.

Which leads us to a question that was posed to me the other day: "When am I going to get off my ass and paint something a little more original than flowers or women?"

I really wish I had some other answer than "Never" for that question, but honestly, I like flowers and I like women, and I paint what I like.

And cats, so maybe I'll paint a cat.

To Dream Is Not Enough

If you're not there
The there that you want to be at
Then you must do something you may find distasteful
Work
If you say you have worked and it has gotten you nowhere
Work harder

Sorry, that's just the way it is

Sitting In A Bar With A Half-Baked Ranting Megalomaniac

"You call this liberty?!"
He stated a little louder than necessary
"They are taking away all of our rights man, all of 'em!"
His eyes flitted about wildly in his head
"It's all part of the New World Order, and we're all sheep!"

All I could think was
It is easy to rant, to rave
Against a government
That guarantees an individual 
The right to rant and rave

How loud would his voice had been
If this were the Soviet Union
In 1948?
Would he have cursed Stalin as readily 
As he curses his duly elected representatives?

Would he have stood with the refuseniks
In Leningrad, in 1970?
Would he have protested against the Gulags
In front of the Kremlin
Or even from a barstool?

"It's getting so a man can't do shit without being hassled!"
He said as he tried to get the bartenders attention
"They use anything as an excuse to deny a man a voice!"
He finished his drink while ordering another
"It's Brandenburg all over again man, all over again!"

Surprised by his reference to Brandenburg v. Ohio
I wondered if he would stand up for a woman
Who wished to wear pants in Afghanistan
Or wear her hair down
In Saudi Arabia

Would he challenge a man in Pakistan
Who had a vial of acid in his hands
With which he planned to punish his sister
For dishonoring their family
By choosing not to wed the man they sold her to?

Every coward dreams of being a hero
From the safety of the stands
Every self-anointed savior has the answer
And, if given just half a chance
Will gladly show the world the error of its ways

If Everyone Discovered What Truly Mattered

                     
Van Ronk sang of that ace in the hole
Though it didn't get much help from the river
        Tina Louise unhappy in her role
        She never wanted to be remembered as simply Ginger
All of us, we strive
Hoping everyday to feel alive
                                     Hoping everyday
                                     For a smile
                                     A kind word
                                     A thoughtful gesture
                                     A beautiful bouquet
                                     Something worthwhile
                                     An unexpected reward
                                     Long-forgotten treasure
                                     Heartfelt praise
                                     To be in style
                                     To be heard
                                     Above the pressure
                 Turn off that television set
                 Walk with your family through the neighborhood 
                 Say hello to the old widowed woman
                 Play some catch with the kids
                                                             Your life
                                                             Will never be
                                                             A life
                                                             Until you make it
                                                             One
                                              Demand more
                                                     From
                                                   Yourself

Boston 4/15/2013

      Quest Eternal by Donald Delue in front of the Prudential Center, Boston Massachusetts

Boston, Massachusetts is my single favorite city in the United States. The roots of this great republic I am fortunate enough to be able to call home are found throughout the Eastern Seaboard, but with the possible exception of Philadelphia, no city played a more crucial role in the American Revolution than Boston.  

Boston is so historically significant it should be a mandatory vacation destination for every American. Walking the Freedom Trail, visiting the Old North Church or Bunker Hill, and standing on the deck of the USS Constitution cannot be underrated. 

If Philadelphia is the city of brotherly love, then Boston is the city of freedom.

And today, at 2:50 EST, somebody, some monster, detonated two bombs that took the lives of three innocent people (as of 04/15/2013), and maimed over a hundred more.

Whoever this person (or persons) is will be found. Justice will be meted out. 

Justice will triumph, over anarchy, over madness, over zealotry, over the twisted desires of deluded psychopaths.

Heading Out For The Eastern Horizon

Driving along a quiet John Philip Falter main street
Through the lower intestine of the American stomach
Tree lined side streets fenceless yards clapboard houses
In the cemetary widows leave flowers for beloved spouses

Section after section of freshly tilled soil
Awaiting the seeding of wheat, the sowing of corn
The rows perfectly divided 30 inches apart
Just enough room for a man pushing a single-wheeled cart

Windmills creaking in the faint breeze
Ten crows rise up and race to the eastern horizon
A dog chases the flying shadows through the field below
Curlicue clouds above would have tempted Van Gogh

Storm-damaged billboard advertises fresh veg bles ahead
Fly on past the shuttered up stands
Roll down the windows to feel the warm country air
Drivers seat as comfortable as an easy chair

23 Ways To Say Maybe

                                                           Syracuse, New York

Can I tell you later in the week? I'm swamped right now
I might be coming down with a bug
Get back to me on that, I'll recheck my schedule
I think I have to work, but I'll let you know
Geez, family might be in town that night 
Call me at the end of the week I'll see if I'm free
I'm sorta committed to a party, though it's not that serious
I'll pencil it in, but I won't use ink
Depends on how far I get with the budget
Probably, but I can't make promises
The thing is, you can't rely on the weather
If it's in the cards I'll be there
Only if the cable guy is here before two
In an emergency I'm on call, so...
We'll flip for it - best out of five
I might have the car in the shop - transmissions acting up
That might be when I'm supposed to help my friend move
I can't commit right now - depends on how the day goes
My backs been acting up, so we'll just have to see
I'm almost 99% sure, but I won't know until Thursday
Weekends are tough for me - you know how it is
Is that a Sunday night? I might have to go in early Monday
I'll have to ask the Rabbi

Just In Case I Forgot To Say Thanks...

Sometimes the expression of appreciation offered at a given moment can feel inadequate at a later date. Such is the case for me regarding the thanks I may (or may not) have expressed to the various people who graced my life over the years and were more than just kind or friendly towards me. They are the people who I owe a debt of gratitude too that goes beyond the pale.

Writers dedicate novels to the people who inspired or assisted them, musicians usually add a "Without whom..." blurb on the inside cover of a CD, filmmakers are able to do the same at the end of the credits, and of course, all of the aforementioned get opportunities to publicly express gratitude at the various awards ceremonies.

I always read those thank yous as a kind of reverse eulogy. At a funeral people make statements about how much the deceased meant to them, and afterwards, at the wake, talk about how they had always wished they had told the deceased how much they really meant to them while they were still alive.

Well, screw that noise, I'm going to tell everybody I can think of just how grateful I am right here and now.

I'll start with an all-encompassing thanks to everyone I have ever had the pleasure to know. With very, very few exceptions, each and every one of you contributed to making my life the wonderful adventure it's been.

I've been struggling with the order I should list everybody, as I would hate to give anybody the impression they were less important to me than someone else simply because they are further down on the list.

Okay, I've been sitting here for going on twenty minutes due a horrible realization.

I can't remember everybody's full name. Hell, I can't recall a number of people by name at all. This is...bad. 

I'm going to have to rule out actually thanking people by name. I realize that is somewhat lame, but it's for the best, really. 

I'd hate to offend someone, anyone, when I'm attempting to express some serious gratitude, but with my piss-poor memory, it would more likely than not happen.

I thought about breaking it down into a family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, etc. order, but that would be tricky in situations with people who are my friends and also co-workers, or acquaintances who are also family.

You probably know exactly what I mean.

I think I'll do this in chronological order, from my earliest memories until the present day.

Which means I'll start with my family. A infinite amount of thanks to my mother, of course, for doing everything she could with the extremely meager resources available to her. It took me a long time to realize what a shit I was when I was younger, and how much hell I put my mother through. 

Raising 6 kids, by herself, in an suburban ghetto...I will never be able to express enough gratitude towards her, ever.

My siblings, my 3 older sisters, my older and my younger brother, all have my undying gratitude as well, if only for not killing me while I slept. There were a number of occasions where most courts would have ruled such an action on their part as justified.

There are a lot of people I grew up with that I owe a couple of truckloads of gratitude to - my friends of course, the ones that made childhood fun, adventurous, and exciting - but I would be grievously remiss if I didn't thank all of their parents. 

The parents of my friends really did a lot to make my childhood bearable, not only for me, but for my Mom as well.

Whether it was taking me to the beach or fishing, camping, or to the movies - even to Disneyland on a couple of occasions - the parents of my friends invited me along and included me in on what most kids somewhat take for granted but I did not have available to me as one of six kids being raised by a poor single-parent.

The people who put together the San Diego Comic-Con and various Comic Book Store owners in San Diego (Comic Kingdom, Golden State Comics, Main Street Comics, that place on 8th & Broadway) also have my undying gratitude. They tolerated my little punk ass when they really did not have to (It wasn't like I was buying tons of merchandise from the stores).

Like most, I also have a lot of teachers I owe a debt of gratitude. From an adult perspective I now see how some of my teachers were just people doing a job, while others were truly interested in imparting not just an education, but life lessons as well. Whatever the case was for them, they all taught me something, and I am grateful for it. 

My coaches, esp. my Wrestling coaches, did much more for me than they could ever imagine. Instilling confidence in a kid who spent nearly every day of his teen years feeling like the Pillsbury Doughboy is something I don't think I can ever repay. 

The family that owned the carnival I worked for during the summers from when I was 14 until I left for the USAF, and all the guys I worked for and with on the Midway, looked out for me and taught me some of the more vital lessons every young man needs to learn, especially as a maturing teen. Big huge chunks of gratitude and thanks to all of you!

After basic, the USAF assigned me to a god-awful, isolated-from-everything-a-young-man-wants base in a barren desert in the Southwest. Fortunately, my compatriots at this bleak outpost were all great people. I spent four years of my life with some of the best people it has been my privilege and 
pleasure to ever know. Thank each and every one of you!

Leaving the AF and getting back to S.D. was tough going for awhile, but once again my family, my friends from childhood (and parents of friends), came through. Not to be too much of a sycophant, but all of you people are the absolute best! 

I also made some new friends, too, at college and at the various jobs I took. Big high fives to the students and teachers at Mesa, and my bosses and co-workers at every job I had - except for that one jerk at AG in Sorrento Valley (still would like to piss in his coffee). 

I ended up making my way to Alaska after a few years back in S.D., and it was again my good fortune to make the acquaintance of a ton of flat-out terrific people. 

I went to Alaska for many reasons, primary among them was to sober up and bring some semblance of order to my life. So many people helped me do just that I still have trouble comprehending how unbelievably lucky I got in making such caring, compassionate friends. I know a lot of it was of a pay-it-forward nature, but it escapes me how I'll ever be able to do the same for anyone.

When I left Alaska for Scotland, it was with a very heavy heart. I treasured the relationships I had developed in the last frontier. Mucho thanks to everyone who made it such a grand adventure.

Glasgow, Scotland is a fairly large city, easy to get lost in. But I still managed to meet some terrific people. I was there to learn more about art, about painting, and about myself, and I met people who helped me to do just that. Thank you all!

Back in the lower 48 after a decade, I made my way to Colorado. And here I remain. I again had the good fortune to chance upon some wonderful new friends. 

I've been here for 15 years now, living in the same house for nearly 13 of those. I've had 3 different jobs and have made great friends at each of them. Some of the people I first met when I took my first job in Colorado are still great friends of mine to this day. They all added to my growth as a professional and as a human - each and everyone of them, in one way or another. You people all rock!

My neighbors have become great friends of mine, and have done much for me. We actually add immensely to one another's lives, so thanks to all of you!

Rereading all of what I just wrote, it seems lacking a bit. Thanks is much harder to express than just by saying thanks. 

It may take another entry or two to adequately convey exactly how fortunate I feel for having been able to have had so many truly wonderful people in my life. 

I am one lucky Dude.

There's Plenty Of Room On The Friday Night Death Slot

Comedy-drama

With a stellar cast

Heartfelt moments 

And belly laughs

Gotta have a frustrated bachelor

With an overbearing Mom

Maybe a couple of friends

Named Bob and Tom

Works cleaning pools  

Hot tubs too

Lots of girls in bikinis

In the field of view

Throw in a crazy uncle

Maybe a gay priest

This is top ten material

At the very least

Set in the hills of LA

With oddball clientele

The nuts of California

Sitcom gold material