Big Junior was sittin at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q the other day lookin like he had just lost his best hound, his pickup or maybe even his wife.
"What's got you so weepy lookin?" I asked.
That's when he said his assets was frozen at the bank. He seemed mighty peeved so I left him well alone and went on about more important business, moved over a couple of bar stools and ordered another longneck.
Then, yesterday, while I was sittin down by the stock tank fishin for anything what might be interested in a left-over noodle I remembered what the banker feller told me when I tried for a loan.
"Mr. Gravis," he said squintin at my over his tee-niny glasses, "you need some assets to back this up."
Well, at first I thought he was startin in on some kind of off-color joke, or maybe he got wind of that nickname "Gone-butt" what won't stick to me less it's behind my back. I pondered hard and quick.
"Ass sets?" I asked. "They come in pairs?"
The banker feller looked at me like I was as dumb as he was ugly.
"No Mr. Gravis," he replied talkin to me like Molly that kindergarten teacher does to everyone, "I mean, property, like cattle or a tractor."
Anyway, my point here bein, while I was fishin and ponderin frozen assets I got to wonderin why anyone would want to freeze a tractor and exactly where the bank's freezer was what kept Big Junior's twenty or so hogs.
Then it come to me quicker than thought. Why not take take that freezer full of deer meat I got and let the bank hold on to that so's next time I go in for a loan I have assets ready and waitin.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Nagging the Universe
According to them folks who ponder quantum field theory, if universes are parallel they ain't supposed to get tangled up.
Here's how it works: You come to a fork in the road. You gotta choose one, but other is out there too acting just like you chose it instead. So if you ever made a really idiot decision, relax. Somewhere in the universe you're out there enjoying the benefits of a right smart move.
I reckon them physicists have never put their theory to the test. Some time back in San Saba county I was way lost in a tangled mess of dirt roads. I kept choosing the left fork in the road. Before long I worm-holed my way to that other universe where I started out and got unlost.
The parallel universe, having presented me with a second chance kept poking its head through the fabric of time and space, time and again. At least that was my theory and I stuck to it and it paid off. For spell time I kept this to myself cause I could just hear some bright spot reply:
"The universe is not like a husband. You can't nag it to death to make it change its mind."
Well, I suppose the universe never met my live-in boss.
Here's how it works: You come to a fork in the road. You gotta choose one, but other is out there too acting just like you chose it instead. So if you ever made a really idiot decision, relax. Somewhere in the universe you're out there enjoying the benefits of a right smart move.
I reckon them physicists have never put their theory to the test. Some time back in San Saba county I was way lost in a tangled mess of dirt roads. I kept choosing the left fork in the road. Before long I worm-holed my way to that other universe where I started out and got unlost.
The parallel universe, having presented me with a second chance kept poking its head through the fabric of time and space, time and again. At least that was my theory and I stuck to it and it paid off. For spell time I kept this to myself cause I could just hear some bright spot reply:
"The universe is not like a husband. You can't nag it to death to make it change its mind."
Well, I suppose the universe never met my live-in boss.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Christmas Lease
I reckon it's that time of year again when we renew our annual Christmas Lease with those Robber Baron credit card companies. Seems like we just get all those dang presents paid off and here we go again.
I don't know about you but I'm gonna make my gifts this year. I've already sharpened my pocket knife to whittle some chopsticks for a couple what love Chinese food. I let Big Junior know I was needing all his leftover beer cans. I'm gonna wrap them up in a black plastic bag with an orange day-glow ribbon I borrowed from the Highway Department and give the whole affair to Harmon Hicks for his beer can collection. I hear tell he says it's gonna be worth big money some day.
And, since it's too cold to Bar-B-Q outdoors I'll be rounding up those left over charcoal briquets and painting them up like Easter Eggs for that banker of mine who didn't have sufficient funds to cover those checks I sent to the credit card folks.
And, for my live-in boss, I'm gonna get around to that Honey-Do list and finally have R.L. haul off that old broke down pick-up what's been sitting on blocks going on five years now. He called just the other day to say he'd give me cash money for it and I sure could use the $25.
And with that loot I'll get a store-bought turkey for Christmas dinner. That one I harvested last year was tough as an old boot. What we couldn't eat -- which was dang near the whole critter -- I passed along to my hound Roy. Being one of your smarter dogs Roy wasted no time in giving the bird a decent burial.
I'm still pondering other ways to get through this Christmas, not spend any loot and give folks something they just might find useful. Still in all, that family heirloom fruitcake what's been passed around for nigh on a generation makes an mighty attractive door stop.
Maybe it would be enough just to give folks a helping hand from time to time. It don't reach into your wallet and you'll be giving folks something they really need. I know for a certainty that Later Billy could use some help on that winter garden he started last year.
I don't know about you but I'm gonna make my gifts this year. I've already sharpened my pocket knife to whittle some chopsticks for a couple what love Chinese food. I let Big Junior know I was needing all his leftover beer cans. I'm gonna wrap them up in a black plastic bag with an orange day-glow ribbon I borrowed from the Highway Department and give the whole affair to Harmon Hicks for his beer can collection. I hear tell he says it's gonna be worth big money some day.
And, since it's too cold to Bar-B-Q outdoors I'll be rounding up those left over charcoal briquets and painting them up like Easter Eggs for that banker of mine who didn't have sufficient funds to cover those checks I sent to the credit card folks.
And, for my live-in boss, I'm gonna get around to that Honey-Do list and finally have R.L. haul off that old broke down pick-up what's been sitting on blocks going on five years now. He called just the other day to say he'd give me cash money for it and I sure could use the $25.
And with that loot I'll get a store-bought turkey for Christmas dinner. That one I harvested last year was tough as an old boot. What we couldn't eat -- which was dang near the whole critter -- I passed along to my hound Roy. Being one of your smarter dogs Roy wasted no time in giving the bird a decent burial.
I'm still pondering other ways to get through this Christmas, not spend any loot and give folks something they just might find useful. Still in all, that family heirloom fruitcake what's been passed around for nigh on a generation makes an mighty attractive door stop.
Maybe it would be enough just to give folks a helping hand from time to time. It don't reach into your wallet and you'll be giving folks something they really need. I know for a certainty that Later Billy could use some help on that winter garden he started last year.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Mongrel Hound Trial
Once we had a law firm here in Lazarus. Blankenship & Blankenship. But he lit out of town for lack of work not long after the Mongrel Hound Trial. Folks in these parts have a way of solving their own problems without dragging in the law. And they certainly didn’t need the services of one man what used his name twice to make is business look bigger.
Seems Little Junior had a garbage eating dog. Every now and again, any trash can within a quarter mile of his place would be overturned and its entire contents dispersed across the landscape. Little Junior was at a loss as to how to control that critter of his, so Miss Cora, the spinster lady, took him into court over his dog’s periodic habit.
Miss Cora hired the firm of Blankenship & Blankship to represent her as the plaintiff against Little Junior and Two Bits the mongrel tick infested hound who had so many breed types in him he looked much like any dog around. All the critters, like most folks in Lazarus, were related in some way so it shouldn’t come as no surprise to learn that Little Junior was Miss Cora’s cousin’s nephew by her first marriage and her uncle twice removed by virtue of her cousin’s short-lived second marriage -- the details of which were so remarkable they are remembered to this day like some epic drama of bygone days belonging to legend.
Anyway, there they were in the courtroom. Miss Cora and her attorney Blankenship & Blankenship at one table, and Little Junior at the other, bib overalls, tie and all. The trial, being about as informal and anything else in town, started and ended pretty quick.
“So,” Judge Lincoln Jackson III said to Little Junior, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Well, Your Honor” he responded using his deepest voice trying to sound all lawyer like, “I would like to call Miss Cora to the stand and have her identify the critter in question.”
“You mean your hound?”
“I ain’t going that far, your Honor. But, with the court’s indulgence, “ he watched a lot of lawyer shows on TV to bone up for this moment. “I would like to introduce a dog for the plaintiff to identify as the critter in question?”
“I object!” Blankenship bolted upright and pointed to the ceiling.
“Oh, hush,” the Judge said.
So Miss Cora takes the stand fusses with her hair and parts of her clothing like there were TV cameras all around. She smiles at the Judge and then turns a cold eye on her adversary.
“Could you let in exhibit A?” Little Junior bellows making a dramatic gesture to the hollow core pressboard door at the back of the courtroom. And in trots a mongrel, tick infested hound being led by Big Junior.
(No one knows how Little Junior and Big Junior came by their names. Seems their daddy named them in the hospital when he was drunk and never could remember why. All he remember was hearing that he had twin boys and his wife only had girl names in mind so she left it up to her drunk of a husband to name them.)
“That’s the one.” Miss Cora shakes her boney old finger at the dog what’s busy licking folks all down the isle toward the bench.
“This dog here? Are you certain to a fraction?” Little Junior asks the courtroom before turning to Miss Cora.
“Yes. That’s the dog that’s tearing up the whole neighborhood.”
“Now Miss Cora, could you be mistaken? Could it be this hound, AKA, -- that means Also Known As, for you folks in the bleachers what may not be up on lawyer lingo -- Exhibit B. Both of these varmits live in the self same neighborhood as the defendant’s dog.”
And in trots another mongrel, tic infested hound looking for all the world like Exhibit A’s twin, being led by some volunteer drunk from the Bar None Bar and Barbeque. Seems Little Junior went just four houses down from his place and borrowed one of Two Bits’ litter mates.
Well, Miss Cora fell plumb apart cause she realized all sudden like that she was out witted by one of the Juniors. Still and all, that weren’t nothing compared to the humiliation felt on the part of the law firm Blankenship & Blankenship.
I reckon the neither Blankenship ever recovered from being outdone in the court room by Big Junior’s older brother Little Junior. It wasn’t long after that he packed up and left town, especially after folks started calling on Little Junior for legal advice.
Seems Little Junior had a garbage eating dog. Every now and again, any trash can within a quarter mile of his place would be overturned and its entire contents dispersed across the landscape. Little Junior was at a loss as to how to control that critter of his, so Miss Cora, the spinster lady, took him into court over his dog’s periodic habit.
Miss Cora hired the firm of Blankenship & Blankship to represent her as the plaintiff against Little Junior and Two Bits the mongrel tick infested hound who had so many breed types in him he looked much like any dog around. All the critters, like most folks in Lazarus, were related in some way so it shouldn’t come as no surprise to learn that Little Junior was Miss Cora’s cousin’s nephew by her first marriage and her uncle twice removed by virtue of her cousin’s short-lived second marriage -- the details of which were so remarkable they are remembered to this day like some epic drama of bygone days belonging to legend.
Anyway, there they were in the courtroom. Miss Cora and her attorney Blankenship & Blankenship at one table, and Little Junior at the other, bib overalls, tie and all. The trial, being about as informal and anything else in town, started and ended pretty quick.
“So,” Judge Lincoln Jackson III said to Little Junior, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Well, Your Honor” he responded using his deepest voice trying to sound all lawyer like, “I would like to call Miss Cora to the stand and have her identify the critter in question.”
“You mean your hound?”
“I ain’t going that far, your Honor. But, with the court’s indulgence, “ he watched a lot of lawyer shows on TV to bone up for this moment. “I would like to introduce a dog for the plaintiff to identify as the critter in question?”
“I object!” Blankenship bolted upright and pointed to the ceiling.
“Oh, hush,” the Judge said.
So Miss Cora takes the stand fusses with her hair and parts of her clothing like there were TV cameras all around. She smiles at the Judge and then turns a cold eye on her adversary.
“Could you let in exhibit A?” Little Junior bellows making a dramatic gesture to the hollow core pressboard door at the back of the courtroom. And in trots a mongrel, tick infested hound being led by Big Junior.
(No one knows how Little Junior and Big Junior came by their names. Seems their daddy named them in the hospital when he was drunk and never could remember why. All he remember was hearing that he had twin boys and his wife only had girl names in mind so she left it up to her drunk of a husband to name them.)
“That’s the one.” Miss Cora shakes her boney old finger at the dog what’s busy licking folks all down the isle toward the bench.
“This dog here? Are you certain to a fraction?” Little Junior asks the courtroom before turning to Miss Cora.
“Yes. That’s the dog that’s tearing up the whole neighborhood.”
“Now Miss Cora, could you be mistaken? Could it be this hound, AKA, -- that means Also Known As, for you folks in the bleachers what may not be up on lawyer lingo -- Exhibit B. Both of these varmits live in the self same neighborhood as the defendant’s dog.”
And in trots another mongrel, tic infested hound looking for all the world like Exhibit A’s twin, being led by some volunteer drunk from the Bar None Bar and Barbeque. Seems Little Junior went just four houses down from his place and borrowed one of Two Bits’ litter mates.
Well, Miss Cora fell plumb apart cause she realized all sudden like that she was out witted by one of the Juniors. Still and all, that weren’t nothing compared to the humiliation felt on the part of the law firm Blankenship & Blankenship.
I reckon the neither Blankenship ever recovered from being outdone in the court room by Big Junior’s older brother Little Junior. It wasn’t long after that he packed up and left town, especially after folks started calling on Little Junior for legal advice.
Friday, November 14, 2008
The Mare Bailout
Well, seems I no sooner posted that little item on Lula when I got an email from Big Junior saying he had that mare of L.J.'s. Turns out Harmon Hicks failed to consider the finer points on the care and feeding of horseflesh.
Not being all that bright, Mr. Hicks kept Lula in his front yard which was all the spare land he had on that small lot on the edge of town. And there weren't much grazing room on his place what with all the broke down lawnmowers -- the riding and push-type -- two rusty old cars sinking down into Mother Earth while sitting on cinder blocks. And, there was his woodpile collection of warped two by fours, pealing plywood and such. Pile on top of that he had about eleventy dozen spare auto parts laying about, scraps of tin roofing and dang near as many pot plants scattered around with dead stems sticking out like grave markers.
That's when he called on Big Junior and offered him twenty five bucks to take Lula off a his hands. Big Junior needed the money so he could pay off part of his sizable tab at the Bar None Bar and Barbeque. He had no use for Lula the Mare, and neither did anyone at the bar.
That's when Big Junior called me cause he figured I was a financial wizard and could give him some insider advice on his burden of horseflesh.
"Wellll," I said holding back on the rest of the sentence just to make him figure I was a right smart feller and thinking double hard, "You could give L.J. a call and ask him if he wanted Lula back. But you oughta know here and now that he went and bought himself a pretty little filly and is going back in the horse trading business. He may not want to use up any grazing room for a worthless, wore-out, no-account, nearly-gone mare even if she has a mighty pretty name like Lula."
"Reckon he'd take her off my hands for fifty bucks?"
Okay, if anyone out there is interested, for as little as one hundred bucks you can have a fine mare what could bring top dollar at one of them glue factories in Fort Worth. You need to bring your own horse trailer to haul her off cause I ain't got one. I sold mine awhile back for scrap and doubled my investment.
Not being all that bright, Mr. Hicks kept Lula in his front yard which was all the spare land he had on that small lot on the edge of town. And there weren't much grazing room on his place what with all the broke down lawnmowers -- the riding and push-type -- two rusty old cars sinking down into Mother Earth while sitting on cinder blocks. And, there was his woodpile collection of warped two by fours, pealing plywood and such. Pile on top of that he had about eleventy dozen spare auto parts laying about, scraps of tin roofing and dang near as many pot plants scattered around with dead stems sticking out like grave markers.
That's when he called on Big Junior and offered him twenty five bucks to take Lula off a his hands. Big Junior needed the money so he could pay off part of his sizable tab at the Bar None Bar and Barbeque. He had no use for Lula the Mare, and neither did anyone at the bar.
That's when Big Junior called me cause he figured I was a financial wizard and could give him some insider advice on his burden of horseflesh.
"Wellll," I said holding back on the rest of the sentence just to make him figure I was a right smart feller and thinking double hard, "You could give L.J. a call and ask him if he wanted Lula back. But you oughta know here and now that he went and bought himself a pretty little filly and is going back in the horse trading business. He may not want to use up any grazing room for a worthless, wore-out, no-account, nearly-gone mare even if she has a mighty pretty name like Lula."
"Reckon he'd take her off my hands for fifty bucks?"
Okay, if anyone out there is interested, for as little as one hundred bucks you can have a fine mare what could bring top dollar at one of them glue factories in Fort Worth. You need to bring your own horse trailer to haul her off cause I ain't got one. I sold mine awhile back for scrap and doubled my investment.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
High Finance and Horse Trading
Financial markets ain't so complicated.
Take L.J. and Later Billy, two ranchers living just down the road a piece. L.J. had an old mare he didn't have much use for but kept it anyway just like his broke down tractor what's been sitting under a shade tree waiting to be fixed coming on ten years now. Well, seems Later Billy dropped by one fine day and offered L.J. fifty bucks for the critter.
L.J. pretended to ponder his windfall and said, "Well, okay. But that's a mighty fine mare."
Well, Later Billy had hardly got out of the driveway before L.J. was thinking, "Later Billy is dumber than he looks but he knows horseflesh. Maybe I just got took." So then and there he made plans to visit Later Billy and buy back his mare.
"Later Billy," he said after letting three days pass, "I decided I just can't live without that mare a mine. Tell you what, I'll give you a hundred dollars hard cash right now to get her back."
Later Billy was plumb puzzled. He only bought the critter cause he heard L.J. was on hard times. But his finances weren't all that good neither so he took the money and L.J. went off with his old mare.
Then, Later Billy got to pondering real hard which weren't all that easy after he got whopped on the head with a beer bottle at the Bar None Bar and Barbeque a week back.
"I must a missed something." he said to himself, "Maybe she was worth more than a hundred bucks after all. So after letting a respectable amount of time pass -- but not too much -- he drove over to L.J.'s and offered him one hundred and fifty bucks for the mare.
Well, L.J. was plumb dumbfounded and his brainwork never worked fast enough to let him figure out what was going on at any give moment, so he took the loot and waved goodbye to Later Billy and his mare once again.
Then it hit him! Later Billy must have come up with some new fangled critter judging device that could see what the eye couldn't, or maybe he got hold of some wonder drug that could make that mare turn into a filly again. So, quicker than thought -- which for L.J. wasn't fast at all, kinda like pouring molasses in winter -- he hauled his horse trailer over to Later Billy's to buy back his mare. Her name was Lula which he had nearly forgot till he arrived at his destination.
"Later Billy," he said all breathless, "I gotta get Lula back right away."
"Lula?"
"My mare. The misses is plumb put out about me selling her off. I can't go home without her. I've got two hundred dollars right here in my pocket to buy her back." He lied about the misses part.
"Wellll" he replied,"That's a mighty pretty name. I'll have to tell Ol' Harmon Hicks cause he owns her now."
"What? Are you plumb out of your gourd? We were both making good money off a her."
L.J. figured there was no call to try and buy that critter off a Harmon cause everyone who ever laid eyes on him just knew to a fraction that he was flat out dumb and never knew how to make a profit off a anything. Let alone a way overpriced worthless mare. Besides, if you ever bought anything off a Harmon word would get out that you were either a thief, taking advantage of a feller weak in the mind, or a fool for coveting any of his trash.
See? That's how financial markets work. And just goes to show how two fellers could make a living off a one critter and watch the stock price go up on every trade. They might a become richer than rich if Later Billy hadn't bailed out on the arrangement.
Take L.J. and Later Billy, two ranchers living just down the road a piece. L.J. had an old mare he didn't have much use for but kept it anyway just like his broke down tractor what's been sitting under a shade tree waiting to be fixed coming on ten years now. Well, seems Later Billy dropped by one fine day and offered L.J. fifty bucks for the critter.
L.J. pretended to ponder his windfall and said, "Well, okay. But that's a mighty fine mare."
Well, Later Billy had hardly got out of the driveway before L.J. was thinking, "Later Billy is dumber than he looks but he knows horseflesh. Maybe I just got took." So then and there he made plans to visit Later Billy and buy back his mare.
"Later Billy," he said after letting three days pass, "I decided I just can't live without that mare a mine. Tell you what, I'll give you a hundred dollars hard cash right now to get her back."
Later Billy was plumb puzzled. He only bought the critter cause he heard L.J. was on hard times. But his finances weren't all that good neither so he took the money and L.J. went off with his old mare.
Then, Later Billy got to pondering real hard which weren't all that easy after he got whopped on the head with a beer bottle at the Bar None Bar and Barbeque a week back.
"I must a missed something." he said to himself, "Maybe she was worth more than a hundred bucks after all. So after letting a respectable amount of time pass -- but not too much -- he drove over to L.J.'s and offered him one hundred and fifty bucks for the mare.
Well, L.J. was plumb dumbfounded and his brainwork never worked fast enough to let him figure out what was going on at any give moment, so he took the loot and waved goodbye to Later Billy and his mare once again.
Then it hit him! Later Billy must have come up with some new fangled critter judging device that could see what the eye couldn't, or maybe he got hold of some wonder drug that could make that mare turn into a filly again. So, quicker than thought -- which for L.J. wasn't fast at all, kinda like pouring molasses in winter -- he hauled his horse trailer over to Later Billy's to buy back his mare. Her name was Lula which he had nearly forgot till he arrived at his destination.
"Later Billy," he said all breathless, "I gotta get Lula back right away."
"Lula?"
"My mare. The misses is plumb put out about me selling her off. I can't go home without her. I've got two hundred dollars right here in my pocket to buy her back." He lied about the misses part.
"Wellll" he replied,"That's a mighty pretty name. I'll have to tell Ol' Harmon Hicks cause he owns her now."
"What? Are you plumb out of your gourd? We were both making good money off a her."
L.J. figured there was no call to try and buy that critter off a Harmon cause everyone who ever laid eyes on him just knew to a fraction that he was flat out dumb and never knew how to make a profit off a anything. Let alone a way overpriced worthless mare. Besides, if you ever bought anything off a Harmon word would get out that you were either a thief, taking advantage of a feller weak in the mind, or a fool for coveting any of his trash.
See? That's how financial markets work. And just goes to show how two fellers could make a living off a one critter and watch the stock price go up on every trade. They might a become richer than rich if Later Billy hadn't bailed out on the arrangement.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Smile, We're in Chaos
I ain't feeling so good these days. Can't exactly put my finger on what's ailing me but I think it has something to do with what I can't figure out. Okay, so there are lots of stuff in that category, but whatever it is it ain't my health. Unless there is something going on in my insides that's holding back, just waiting for me to say something like this.
You see! It ain't easy feeling this way. I bet you feel it too. Just a little. Maybe? It's like being in a shoe store waiting for the last shoe to drop. Or maybe like the Sword of Damocles except I ain't got no power, no way, no how. Not me. But sometimes I do feel under the pressure like Damocles was, but I can't see the sword like he could.
Anyway, I plan to get past this. A walk amongst the live oaks and cedar brakes always helps. So does a adult beverage. Maybe I oughta go back to that other parallel universe where things are just a mite brighter. But I can't just pop in and out on a whim. If I do this too often I could end up in some parallel timeline and meet myself coming and going. It's perplexing for certain, and I don't need any more of me than there already are.
Anyway, this here universe is mighty compelling if you're into chaos theory.
Okay, this deserves a little explaining, and from the get go it's a question. Does the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas? According to the brainiacs that ponder this stuff, one little event in one place can make very big things happen somewhere else even without knowing or planning.
Dragging their notion into my situation, any more worrying on my part could set off a war or some other catastrophe. Perhaps I oughta just smile and let it go at that. Maybe I need a head doctor, but this just might work. Peace could break out in some little corner of the world, or maybe just in my part of it.
What ya think?
You see! It ain't easy feeling this way. I bet you feel it too. Just a little. Maybe? It's like being in a shoe store waiting for the last shoe to drop. Or maybe like the Sword of Damocles except I ain't got no power, no way, no how. Not me. But sometimes I do feel under the pressure like Damocles was, but I can't see the sword like he could.
Anyway, I plan to get past this. A walk amongst the live oaks and cedar brakes always helps. So does a adult beverage. Maybe I oughta go back to that other parallel universe where things are just a mite brighter. But I can't just pop in and out on a whim. If I do this too often I could end up in some parallel timeline and meet myself coming and going. It's perplexing for certain, and I don't need any more of me than there already are.
Anyway, this here universe is mighty compelling if you're into chaos theory.
Okay, this deserves a little explaining, and from the get go it's a question. Does the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas? According to the brainiacs that ponder this stuff, one little event in one place can make very big things happen somewhere else even without knowing or planning.
Dragging their notion into my situation, any more worrying on my part could set off a war or some other catastrophe. Perhaps I oughta just smile and let it go at that. Maybe I need a head doctor, but this just might work. Peace could break out in some little corner of the world, or maybe just in my part of it.
What ya think?
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