Neanderpundit

When you spend time on the road, inevitably someone will say “C’mon, have a beer, no big deal, man up!”

When you wake up the first time in your local drunk tank, it’s a little shocking, but after eight, ten times, it’s a friendly spot. Well, as friendly as eight 100 watt fluorescent bulbs can be to an everclear hangover.

It’s the waking up in a strange drunk tank, 1900 miles from home, 1900 miles from the nearest bail money, that convinces you that drinking is not always a good idea.

Look at all these old farts who are still kicking around.

Eli Wallach, at 91. Jack LaLane! Les paul, Art Linlkater, Studs Terkel, Karl Malden!

Damn.

I thought ALL those fuckers were pushing up daisies.

Barbara Billingsly is 91, and still probably wonders about the beaver.

Miep Gies. There’s a name to conjure with. How many of us would risk the safety of our own household, our own families, to house and feed refugees?

Former Senator Earl Butz. Who is now living a life of relative comfort, enjoying his retirement with a virtually unending supply of tight pussy, loose shoes, and a warm place to shit.

ocasionally crowbar your halfmoons out of your recliner and travel- at least a little- you never get an idea what is happening beyond… well beyond your recliner.

I have enough gypsy blood in me to long for the open road. I’ve been lucky in the past twenty years to have the kind of work that took me afield, sometimes far afield. I get antsy when I sit still for very long.

Met the Ogwife on the road.

Met my current employer on the road.

Met some of the decentest people in my travels.

I was having a conversation earlier with Jim Dunmeyer, to the extent that long distance drives are not a chore but a pleasure, sometimes less to be endured than enjoyed. I hope to have a chance to meet Jim in person before the end of 07.

There are lots of people I’ve met online and then in person, and to an individual, I’m pleased to know them all.

Start your car. Go somewhere.