Neanderpundit

Quoi? A present!

So I stop as is my habit after I pull in the driveway, to get the mail, and there’s a flat package. Fan mail from some flounder? No! Galveston- who do I know in… Oh!

So moderately sure it will not combust, I bring it in the house.

Several months back I picked Jim and his lady up at Midway. They were in town very briefly, and they had the evening free. Jim was a little peeved at not being able to bring his pocketknife with him through security, and I happened to have an extra, so I lent it to him. And he sent it back!

This was my throwaway knife- the ones I take to the airport and only about 1 out of 3 times get confiscated. I would have been fine with him keeping it. it was worth the loss of the knife to spend the time with the elegant couple.

Instead he sharpened the knife, added one from his own collection, and an NRA challenge coin!

Thank you, Jim! it was great to have you here, even if for a few brief hours. I hope to get down to Galveston someday and visit you in your native habitat. We can just sit and listen to your wife talk, it’s the kind of accent that normally makes me want to take out my wallet.

Mr Donovan, long my goto guy for antique arms, has stopped posting. I had hoped he’d come back but I don’t blame him, and I don’t begrudge the guy the time he has retrieved from his life, but it was a daily visit and one that I miss a good deal.

Sorry it was such a drag, Mr D. Glad you’re leaving the archives up, and hope you reappear somewhere else soon.

Dreampt I was climbing a mountain- not the ropes and carabiner type of climbing, but the steep incline climbing- and when i got to the top there was a little pond and the Dalai Lama was fishing in it. I thought the fishing was a bit incongruous with his nature but I didn’t say anything.

I joined him, and we fished together for a while, when Dr Ruth Westheimer appeared out of the Lama’s little house. She was arranging her clothes and drinking Arak from a bottle. The lama looked at me and grinned. Even I get to have a vacation, he said.

We caught some fish and roasted them on sticks over a fire the way I saw Africans doing it and ate in relative quiet. We heard noise coming from some distance out, and I grabbed my binoculars and looked down the trail to see Rosie O’Donnell headed toward us, huffing and puffing and yelling something unintelligible through a megaphone.

Dr Ruth went into the house and came out with a white painted M28 and using iron sights popped off a shot so quick you couldn’t imagine she’d even had time to aim.

Downtrail about a half mile, Rosie just stood there. A few seconds later, she dropped the megaphone, and blood began to squirt out of a hole directly between the eyes and run out of that hole and also out of her nose. She had the same empty look on her face as she dropped facedown into the shingle as she’d had her whole life.

We went back to eating and I asked the lama, if this is your vacation can you eat meat too? Not that, he said, and i looked at him quizzically. O’Donnell isn’t kosher said Dr Ruth and I woke up before I could tell him that I was talking about a cheeseburger or something. Who would eat Rosie O’Donnell?