Wednesday, November 18, 2015
I've committed to the Hillbilly Holidays. I will visit my mother's relatives for Thanksgiving. My only true concern is the cat. Otherwise, why the hell not? Hell, I may even take pictures. That would be a novelty. I will be in a place where no one knows me, free to wander about in the most mischievous way. That is what I say I want all the time.
Poor pus-pus, though. She is not happy when I am gone. How could I possibly know that? It is mystical knowledge, pure and simple. I am giving myself over to it. It is so much better than argument. It is the purest form of knowledge.
I read a snarky article (link) about a letter a "possible" mother wrote about her daughter's reaction to Cam Newton's touchdown celebration in the end zone last Sunday. I say "possible" because I do not trust that this letter is totally legit. I do not, however, like the tone of the author in his defense of player celebrations. I am not usually for policing of behavior, but I wonder if they would have a problem with me celebrating the way I want which is usually taking off my pants and doing the Hokey-Pokey. It is a true site to see, better than David Venable's Happy Dance by far.
Here is the letter. I dislike the "mother's" tone as well, by the way. It sounds to my ear a bit like Nurse Ratched in "Cuckoo's Nest." Perhaps that is what the sports commentator was responding to as well.