Joe,
I have no idea what you are smoking, but I want some of it.
 
Rummy
 
 
In a message dated 3/16/2014 1:06:50 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time,  
jjcampjr at yahoo.com writes:

NB  (or "note well" in literary vernacular)

Everyone (or nearly everyone) in the R-22 grandSTANd wished the mighty  
mister Spitzer a warm and happy birthday on or close to the actual date.  As 
more Rhodies did this, the result was a classic "dog-pile on the  rabbit" 
scenario. I underSTANd the tug of social and cultural responsibility,  but I 
really make it a point to try to set myself aside in nearly every  endeavor.  
(For example, I resolved to part my hair on the right side...  the girl 
side... at the age of twelve).  Despite the fact that I love  STAN as much as the 
next (or former) Rhodie, the relative value of tossing my  declaration atop 
the pile meant that it would be lost in the congratulatory  soup of 
similarly expressed wishes.  Thus, would I relegate myself to  just another "happy 
birthday" in STAN's overall perception of the worship of  his anxiety-ridden 
minions. 

So, here it is,  well past the birthday (day) and I have chosen this 
outSTANding opportunity to  set myself apart (again) and say "many more, STAN."  
It's like making  one's self fashionably late to a posh posh party so as to 
STANd out in the  perception of the early arrivals (now well imbibed on the 
host's booze, to  STANd out in the perception of the host, himself. Then, in 
truly  egotistically managed  precision, to announce that lateness, calling 
more  attention onto the lateness and forcing the host to forgive that 
transgression  in the long established tradition of turning the other  cheek. 

Now, I am the center of attention, and  everyone notices what I am wearing. 
 Now, I am the talk of the party...  and the next party (for which I also 
will be late).
I amble to the bar,  dangle a crisp twenty over the tip glass and smile at 
the frazzled  bartender:

"I'll have a VO and water please, splash of lime. I'm Joe,  see you in 
about twenty minutes.  Where's the birthday boy?"

Joe  Camp
s/v John Dawson
on the hard in Horsham, PA
and dreaming of  mid-april    

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