Talk about the city: it feels like it’s burning

I was mistaken

Tuesday I didn’t have to leave the house once, so naturally I stood at the window and laughed at all the fuss about the cold weather. Pttth! I say to the window. Bunch of sissies. Why go back to MY day. . . Then I had to roll the trash cans to the sidewalk and man, oh man. Cold? It was like running naked through barbed wire. And I know what I’m talking about because I’m a guy who’s run through barbed wire naked a time or two. For various reasons. I have said too much.

Bare shelves as you have read

I wish you all would calm down and stop worrying to death. It’s finish. I found salt crackers. I had to shell out for the brand name stuff, but whatever. The crisis is over. Go back to bed, son, you look scary. The salty crisis may be over, but there are still serious shortages of chocolate graham crackers, pepperoni, microwave popcorn with extra butter, and potato sticks. It’s just plain hell for a guy who tries very hard to avoid healthy eating. Also, if you’re looking for taco sauce, seasonings, or shells, you’ll probably have to buy them from the back of someone’s van.

Enter Sandman

The town of Greene is vigilantly monitoring its sand supply. Don’t blame them either. Sand at this time of year is quite valuable. You have plenty of time to think about these things after the third wipeout of the day leaves you half-conscious in your driveway. Instead of security lights and fancy cameras, I’d suggest the town of Greene invest in a good old growling dump dog to keep thieves away. No one wants to get tangled up with a growling dump dog, it’s a very painful experience. Kind of like running naked through barbed wire, now that I think about it.

Aeee, man!

In the very first story I wrote about the town of Greene in 1990, I forgot to put the “e” at the end of the town name. There are people to this day who have not forgiven me. My shame is great.

My fault

Speaking of. I reached out to a source the other day to ask for additional photos for a story I was writing. He immediately replied to say he was on his honeymoon. I can’t say why, exactly, but I felt a weird sense of shame for writing a guy on his honeymoon and asking for pictures. He didn’t send any, so I guess that’s fine.

Lewd and lascivious more

I don’t know if I’ve talked about this before, but I miss hearing the police chatter on the radio. Listening to fire and ambulance traffic is brisk and all, but these guys don’t tend to use terms like “naked and belligerent”, “drunk and obscene” or “drunk, naked and pulling handfuls of hair “. This kind of talk is the music I like to dance to, consarn it.

Forgive me

I apologize for the foul language earlier.

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