ALMOST LIKE A REAL JOB

Title:  The mystery is still alive.

"And what do you think of this Operation, gunny Hightower?"  "It's a cluster~f, sir."  Clint Eastwood, Heartbreak Ridge.

  And that pretty much describes the mood of all my cuddies in the Town as we try to sort out the bins from the new contractor.  We'll get thru it tho--just before i go back to my regular Job.  The goof thinks i have capitulated to the capitalistic dream.  WELL, if i had, wouldn't i have a lot more money 2 throw around for my grand=nephews? [Like i said--it'll werk itself out...cash is only one kind of Lubricant]

So~~~i had a visitor yesterday who couldn't figger out if i was young/old, feminine/masculine, hip/dork...And i take this as the most extreme Compliment as a jernalist[sic].  id est, my readers know who i am, and that i distinguish little among ages or between sexes {altho if you are going 2 have relations--make sure the other person has at least two eyes on either side of their Nose, and is fairly bright of brain.}  More & better i could tell you, if i saw you Dance...just Once.  Yet seeing that my mind goes in and out of natural sentience and i have lots more werk 2 do tomorro, simply regard me as a templata blanca upon which you can hang your smooches until i write further or Remember better...  ess, ell, ay, see, kay         [end]