The Dirty Dozen

"Garg, have you ever been on trial for anything?" came the question from my neighbor.

"No, I haven't, Emory. Why do you ask?"

He replied, "I was only wondering what a jury of your peers would look like."

My Honey Bun

The little woman still wears her beehive hairdo from the '60s. This morning I again found honey on her pillowcase.

Ready or Knotty, Here He Comes

My loony neighbor, Emory, has begun the daily wearing of a bow tie. One day it's bright red, the next day bright yellow, the next day poker-dot, then orange and pink stripes, etc.

"You know," he said to me, "people look at a guy funny when he wears a bow tie. It's as if they're thinking, 'What's with this guy?' They're afraid you might say or do something crazy at any moment."

I replied, "Well, I think all crazy people should be required to wear bow ties so that we'll know who they are."

Bus Boy

I enjoy the look on their faces. When I ride the city bus here and there, I try to sit next to a young woman. I eventually turn to her and say, "Say, you remind me of myself when I was your age. I too wore women's clothing all the time."

Hotheads

Here we go again. I read that over the past two weeks about a dozen soldiers at Army bases in North Carolina and in Texas were hospitalized in critical condition after their ten-to-fifteen-miles "practice" hikes in 100-degree heat. And a few more high-school football players in a few states collapsed in the same condition during their "practice" sessions in 100-degree heat. I guess the soldiers are practicing for the present or the next war in the next foreign country into which the U.S. government will intrude itself. I guess the football players are practicing for their next war which they call the football season. I hope the all those players and their coaches will not be dismayed, that they continue toughening up with these practice sessions, so that the boys can continue their helmeted mission in a different uniform---but still in 100-degree heat.

Stationary Stationery

I'm still in Seine, but I've moved to a new address, namely, 2+ (pronounced "Two Much") Writer's Block (same zip code 19901).

Forget the Nose

I was sitting on a bench in the park here in Seine. It's mostly older, retired guys who do the same during the day. They sometimes do strange things. I began to find it easy to sit there and scoff at each old man's folly. But I also found it easy to scoff at each one's Adam's apple.

Where There's Smoke

More forest fires in the Southwest and West and now in Russia! Which reminds me: I bet that primitive man discovered fire and invented the wheel on the same day. Then that night in all their excitement they burned the wheel. I have no way of proving that, though.