Goodnight Mrs. Higgins

Second Career

2011-06-09T10:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs Higgins,

Some guys just don’t know how to retire. I mean this Brett Favre: “retired” from the Packers, then “retired” from the Jets, then, again “retired” from the Vikings.

And now, of all places, he is in Congress representing New York. Oh, he changed his name to “Tony the Wiener” (which surprised no one), but he is definitely back in the game. Now it looks like one more retirement is in the works. (how many gold watches can one guy use?)

His new wife, Huma (probably also a stage name) who is now expecting their first child, works for: ... wait for it… Hillary Clinton.

I can only imagine the conversations between those girls. “Oh yeah, that’s nothing, listen to what my man….”

Anyway, its hard to say where Brett/Tony/Weiner will show up next.

You may want to stay off Twitter, Mrs. H.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Representative Anthony Wiener isn’t Brett Favre. He just pulled a play from old Brett’s playbook.

When you read the paper, Mike: stick to the comics. We’ll all be happier.

Mrs. H

A nation headed in a wrong direction

2010-10-28T12:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

As you can tell by the political ads this election season, our nation is clearly headed in the wrong direction. I’m not talking about partisan politics, or unemployment, or health care or any of that really hard to understand stuff. I’m talking about something important.

The Chicago Bears cheerleaders, aka Honey Bears, are gone.

Yeah, you read that right. They’re gone.

Attending my first Bears game at Soldier Field in quite a while, I was taken by the revamped stadium. The architects may have come from a background of bed pan designers, but the place is shiny and impressive all the same.

Settling in to my seat, I of course, begin looking for my favorite “Monsters of the Midway,” and the Honey Bears - I think in that order.

“They’ve been gone for a while,” my date explains, followed by a fairly pointed: “Why?”

Why? I don’t want to bash your gender, Mrs. H, but frankly some girls just don’t get sports. They don’t understand the concept of a “football purist.”

With a remarkable lack of marketing prowess, the Honey Bears were replaced with guys in t-shirts and PE shorts waving big Bears flags.

Wow.

That’ll get the team motivated. “Hey Julius, did you see Frank waving that flag after the last field goal? I‘m fired up!”

No wonder the Bears offense is so anemic. You think a guy wants to risk injury catching a gravity defying touchdown pass to get Jerry and Carl to really start whipping those flags around?

I don’t think so.

So, one more part of our day to day lives that has been ruined by the Chinese. Where will it end.

Mike

Dear Purist,

Just watch the game. Your date should have spilled a beer on your lap.

The Chinese?

Mrs H

Health Care - Part III Game Day

2010-04-23T13:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

So finally the awaited day arrives and I’m in for surgery.

Having fasted from 7pm the night before, I‘m a little cranky already.
(now I know what Gandi felt like getting the British out of India)

Anyway, I’m in the waiting room promptly at 7am waiting for the 9 o’clock procedure. After a couple hours, the volunteer running the OR waiting room sweetly mentions that I’m not scheduled until noon.

I, in turn, sweetly mention that I own a #$%^ telephone, and it seems to be working properly with the minor exception that I haven‘t received a *&^%$ call from the ^%$# person in charge of my *&^% surgery schedule.
(that seems a bit strong until you consider my emaciated condition)

Of course, it wasn’t her fault. And you can’t fight city hall. Or a surgeons schedule. Apparently, there was some kind of emergency that had to be taken care of ahead of me. Some people are so inconsiderate with their medical emergencies.

Finally, I meet my surgical prep nurse. She happens to be someone I know. I’ll call her Betty. Her real name is Trish, and she lived across the street from me when I was in high school and is a couple years younger.

I’m guessing there are a couple hundred nurses in Champaign/Urbana. I know one of them and she is going to get me ready for game day. Unlike high school football, this does not involve taping ankles. Not even close.

So Betty/Trish and I are having a nice chat about her husband and kids, and her new house, and my kids, you know small talk. I must have been my normal witty self because there was a lot of giggling during our “chat.”

That pleasantry completed, along comes second nurse to describe how the rest of game day, and the days after are going to play out.

This, Mrs. Higgins is so contrived. They get you naked except for the breeze gown, shorn like a losing poodle in a dog show, a needle and tube in your arm, and then give you the news, weather, and sports - including “significant swelling and discomfort.”

I seriously thought about making a break for it, when nurse 2 begins wrapping me in heated blankets. Wow! These are awesome, and I’m thinking: “how bad can it be?”

Feeling a bit like a dinner roll in a basket at a fancy restaurant, I meet my anesthesiologist. And I know this guy too - from the 7 11. Only I’m not positive its him, maybe a brother or cousin. Maybe the guy moonlights.

Finally after being rolled to several waiting locations, I get to the OR and I'm really, really glad my contacts and glasses are not available. This room looks serious, and I don’t want to see the details of what tools are available to the good doctor.

A couple more nurses move me from the warmth of the biscuit basket onto a metal table recently pulled from the fridge. I’m guessing they were out of adult sized tables because, well, lets just say there was more Mike than table.

Next, 7 11 guy shows up, and I'm thinking about a 32 ounce slurpy, when he tells me he is going to give me something to relax.

I'm thinking: finally a break. They have Old Style here - probably keep it next to the operating tables....

My next thought was a nurse handing me a cup of ice chips. Only these are not your normal ice chips. These taste like a 16 ounce prime rib with a loaded baker. They are incredible. Ice never tasted so good. Some guy next to me is complaining about pain, and all I can think is: "Dude! eat your ice!"

Of course I’m finished. And, as expected, this was the easy part. I really don’t know, Mrs H. exactly what happened in the OR, but I have a theory.

Dr. Jones makes a little incision right below my waist line and inserts some kind of mesh to hold the parts of me that should stay in, in.

This is the whole idea. So years from now I won’t have the embarrassing conversation: “excuse me sir, but I believe you are standing on my intestine.” Keep it in your pants takes on a whole new meaning.

Then, I’m pretty sure, they put my heels in stirrups and bring in every person who I ever offended for one free kick. (starting with the OR waiting room volunteer - who probably got 2)

Unfortunately, this is a long list.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Emaciated? Gandi?

Wish I would have known, I have some steel toed shoes somewhere around here.

Mrs. Higgins

Health Care - Part 2

2010-04-13T13:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Ok, to follow up on my new hobby, which is getting medical treatment, I thought I’d relay my recent experiences.

My first doctor apparently has a friend who is putting an addition on his house, or maybe saving for a European vacation, and is looking for a revenue bump.

Enter me: the bump.

Well actually, I have a bump that needs repaired, and Doc 1 gets on the horn with Doc 2, and the next thing I know, another man, a complete stranger is touching my “Mommy said no no” places.

This guy happens to be African American. And since he is going to be cutting on me while Doc 3 has me knocked out, I’m humming Stevie Wonder music, quoting Maya Angelou, with a few vague references to "hope" and "change" tossed in. You know, kind of a “we are the world” moment.

Then today, in kind of a pregame warmup, I go in for a chest xray and blood sample. The girl in charge of the xray, who appears to be about 17, cheerfully introduces herself as a junior college student.

Uh, sorry, what?

Hopefully not a business major, but who knows? And couldn’t I get a graduate? Or at least somebody going to a 4 year school?

But alas, I’m in the system now with the ever drafty little gown, padding around in my socks going where I’m told and doing what I’m told.

Finally the surgical nurse runs me through the game day scenario. By now, I’m picturing myself lying on a table with a bunch of small engine repair students standing over me.

“Hey, anybody ever knock a guy out?”

This all kind of makes me miss the height and weight chart.

I wonder how many ski trips I could go on for what this will cost.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Keep your chin up little guy. This too will pass.
There's a time to ski, and a time to get fixed up.

Mrs Higgins.

Health Care

2010-03-15T18:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Well, with all the talk about health care, I thought I’d share my experience with you regarding my recent physical exam.

Ok, it had been a while.

Last time I went in, Doc poured whisky on a splinter, handed me a bullet to bite down on, and Miss Kitty and Festus held me in position.

Lets just say: things have changed.

First, there is the height and weight measurement.

And apparently, there is a chart. This chart was obviously conjured up by a hateful group of people who have never met a deep dish pizza.

I didn’t mind my numbers being documented, but was a little startled when the nurse called the entire floor over to “Hey, check out the stats on pudgy.”

Actually, it turns out my weight was fine.

But somehow my height is short by roughly a foot and an half. (like I can control THAT)

So, next is getting into the “gown” (can we say breezy), and measuring blood pressure.

And Mrs. H, it is so cool how some of the nurses aren’t afraid to share their spiritual beliefs on the job.

I was expecting to hear a couple of boring numbers, but instead it was: “Holy Mother of God.”

Now that’s comforting!

Finally, I meet the doctor who runs me through a series of tests - some more usual than others.

Note: if someone tells you to “turn your head and cough,” prepare for an unusual one.

Then the guy puts a rubber glove on one hand. And, of course, because I’m pretty savvy about modern medicine, I’m thinking his hand is cold.

Then, it’s like HEY! HEY! HEY! - that is no way to warm up a hand. (Next time I’m gonna bring in an extra pair of mittens. You can just have ‘em. Really. They’re yours. Just take ‘em.)

Anyway Mrs. Higgins, it was a day to be remembered. I really did like the doctor, and during chit chat time (which could be likened to a description of a condemned warehouse) I wanted to ask if he was from India or Pakistan.

Remembering that sometimes those two groups of people don’t get along, I didn’t venture a guess.

He did have a whole box of rubber gloves within reach.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Good that you finally got over your pride and cowardice and got checked out. Maybe some people around you would like you to be around for awhile.

Embrace the chart, my “savvy” friend. Hint: you’re unlikely to get taller.

Mrs H.

Helpful historical note:
A long time ago in a galaxy far far away: Gunsmoke was a wildly popular TV western with Sheriff Matt Dillon, his deputy Festus, and Doc (a medical doctor). Miss Kitty ran the hotel/bar and was kind of a girl friend to the sheriff, but this is back when cowboys only kissed their horse.

Recognition way overdue

2009-10-13T08:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Can’t tell you how excited I was to hear that President Obama won academy awards for best director and best cinematography in a foreign film.

And this on the heals of the Pulitzer prize for best short story - along with Country Music Awards best new single.

Its about time we give credit where credit is due!

Those Olympians don’t know bleep!

When Obama AND Oprah AND Mayor Daley don’t get their way. Well lets just say that some folks need to start falling in line. (&^%# foreigners!) We probably should have sent Blago over
to seal the deal.

All in all, not a bad week for our commander in chief!

And about time!

Mike

Dear Mike,

Do you read the paper or just look at the rubber band.

Yeah, Blago is a real "deal sealer". I am sure he would have enjoyed the furlough.

Try to sit up straighter,

Mrs Higgins.

Lost in Space

2009-10-01T13:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I hope you are sitting down. I have some very disturbing news:

I just read that Saturn is ending.

That’s right: Saturn.

Oh, I didn’t read all the “fine print mumbo jumbo” that followed. I am a very busy man. But I scooped instantly that we are one short in the planet department.

First Pluto losses “planet status” in some sort of political trickery, or rounding error, and the next thing you know: Saturn ending.

What next? Mercury? Jupiter? Comet? Ajax?

I don’t know about you, but this isn’t exactly the “hope” and “change” I was looking for.

I better go get a beer and calm down.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Seems like “calming down” is a consistent theme for you.

Actually my “very busy” friend, the auto maker “Saturn” is closing.

The planet Saturn, not unlike you, continues to spin in its oblivious orbit.

You may want to waste a few minutes and read a bit more of the “mumbo jumbo.”

Ajax?

Mrs Higgins

Snubbed

2009-07-31T13:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I read with great anticipation about the upcoming beer party at the White House. Nobody likes a cold one out back more than me, so naturally I assumed I’d be included.

Well, as they say: “ASSUME” makes an ass out of “U” and Joe Biden.

I didn’t even get a call.

I had my little cooler all ready and everything, from about noon - figured the copper could use another “regular guy” to hang out with.

Plus, I wanted to be there when Michelle came out with a stern look, and started counting empties.

But I guess its for the best. I figure after about 8 or 9 brewskis, Professor Gates and Sgt Crowley would start hugging and high fiving and calling each other “the man.”

“No, you da man!”

“No, no, YOU da man!”

Meanwhile the whole time Barack would be leaning back, smiling, knowing HE is the man, then sending Joe to the kitchen for more pretzels.

So how do I get invited to these events?

Mike

Dear Mike,

You’re a regular guy alright.

If you want to get to the White House lawn, I’d say
work on your hedge trimming skills.

Mrs Higgins

A leg to stand on

2009-06-09T14:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I’m sure you’ve noticed that politics have gotten particularly harsh lately, but I’ think we’ve just turned a corner.

There had been speculation about how tough the Republicans would be vetting President Obama’s Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayer.

Little of this has to do with the women herself, just concern that there would be payback for the brutal attacks on nominees presented from Republican administrations. (think Bork)

Well, they broke her leg.

I know. I can’t believe it either.

How many Italians do we have in Washington DC? I mean, I’d totally expect this in Providence, or the North End of Boston, but DC?

Well of course they made it sound like an accident - at the airport, no less.

And that is a pretty good alibi. I’ve had a couple good falls myself in airports after a long delay. Usually while disembarking from a barstool from about the 800 block of Main Street
Margaritaville.

What do you think Mrs H? Is this the kind of hope and change we were hoping for?

Mike

Dear Mike,

It was an accident. Judge Sotomayer did, in fact, just fall.

The Republicans and the Italians are innocent.

And next time you are in an airport, maybe take a parachute for the long delays.

Mrs Higgins

MAY DAY! MAY DAY!

2009-05-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I thought May 1 meant putting little baskets of flowers on people’s front porch. What does that have to do with a plane in distress? Can't find the address? Flowers wilted?

Anyway, speaking of planes, I’m tired of people complaining about Air Force One and a couple fighter jets taking a spin to lower Manhattan.

People need to realize: It’s PICTURE day!

Lets keep our eye on what's important. Think of the photos!

We’ve got a lot more pressing issues to worry about like learning to eat pork chops through a surgical mask.

I don’t even drive past Taco Bell (aka “food from the land of death“) these days.

Hope you are protecting yourself,

Mike

Dear Mike,

I think we're going to be ok.

About 9 million people live in Mexico City, a couple hundred have shown swine flu.

And we are a little selective about who is wasting tax dollars. I have a feeling “picture day” cost a touch more than Detroit execs going to DC for bail out loans.

Maybe they should have taken camera’s.

And Mike, the mask is a great idea. Could slow down all your meals.

Mrs Higgins.

Dating and other natural disasters - part 3

2009-04-23T08:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I’m going through a bit of a “dry spell” with the ladies. Seems like they all “like me” but want to be “just friends.” None have actually said “pathetic loser,” but its been implied.

Last one just gave me the “friends” call. I could kind of see it coming. She hadn’t returned countless phone calls, emails, or even waved as I followed her at the grocery store, mall, and every other time she left the house.

Just trying to show that I’m interested.

The one before that never made the friends phone call, but made it pretty clear.

When I mentioned something about church, she said “oh, I bet you ring the bell” and then looked really closely at my back.

I asked to kiss her goodnight after a date and she suggested I just send her a fax instead.

Another announced that she was not going to have sex with me. Since we happened to be in the McDonald’s drive up I didn’t really think the topic was on the table.

At the time, I was more concerned with quarter pounder or Big Mac, or possibly: both.

Its gotten so bad, the other night I had to slip myself a rufi to get me undressed for a shower.

Any ideas Mrs. H?

Mike

Dear Mike,

Come to think of it, I never have seen you and old Quasi at the same time.

Hang in there Romeo. You’ll find someone who can see past your flaws.
(think: girls with white canes)

Just be yourself. Or better yet, don‘t.

Mrs Higgins

Exit Strategy

2009-04-04T07:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

One of the downsides of skiing is the rich people. I try not to dislike someone who makes more or less money than me, but rich guys can really be annoying.

Here is how it works: they start out all “regular guy,” but when the conversation begins to slide into what looks like peer status, they make sure to clarify the class difference.

Me: “Great skiing today! Hi, I‘m Mike.”

Rich guy: “Yes it is. My pleasure, I‘m sure. Rodney.”

Me: “Good to meet you, Rodney. A lot less windy than yesterday.”

Rich guy: “Well, heh heh, it was calm as could be in the Swiss Alps yesterday.”

Me: “Wow, you were in Europe?”

Rich guy: “Yes, the Westwind was tied up in Rome, so we were stuck in the Lear last night. Just doesn‘t have the roominess or ride, but we struggled through.”

Me: (in my mind) “Yeah, well my 747 was in for an oil change at Jiffy Lube, so I just came out in the space shuttle.”

Me: (in real life) “Wow.” (always quick on my feet)

Rich guy: “So Mick, what do you do?”

Me: “Uh, its Mike. I’m a programmer. How about yourself Rodney?”

Rich guy: “Software eh? Well I’ve had my share of software companies. Such a bore dealing with nerdy little geeks.”

Me: (in my mind) “I know the secret handshake to THAT club.”

As Rodney continues detailing his life’s accomplishments, I‘m looking for a smooth way to exit the vicinity.

Unfortunately, at this point, we happen to be on a chair lift about 40 feet off the ground.

I’m mentally weighing: bailing out of the chair with a likely compound fracture, versus spending another 3 minutes with Rodney.

Then I remembered Lamaze breathing.

Rich guy: “… and as I was saying Mark, I absolutely stole this little villa in the south of France…”

Me: (concentrating on the tip of my left ski) … hee hee hee hee hee hee hee …

This can’t be much worse than your average contraction.

Anyway, Mrs. Higgins, I’m happy to say I made it to the top without injury.

Saw Rodney later in the day talking to a guy who appeared to be about to impale himself on a ski pole.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Glad you could get past your pain.

You know dear, you could be a little more patient. Did you ever think that maybe Rodney was dealing with insecurities in other parts of his life?

Everyone needs someone to talk to.

And, you’d last about 10 minutes in real labor.

Mrs. Higgins.

Not always what they seem

2009-03-26T09:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Remember my new coffee friend Jose? Well there is a problem.

Turns out, those weren’t coffee plants. I should have guessed something due to all the giggling I’ve been hearing. But, as you know, I don’t speak Spanish, so how could I tell.

Also, 5 empty boxes of Girl Scout cookies should have caught my attention.
(well ok, I was kind of in on the shortbreads, but 4 of those I had nothing to do with)

Also turns out Jose, isn’t Jose. He’s Ernie. And, instead of being from some place really cool like Brazil or Costa Rica, he’s from Valparaiso Indiana.

So instead of worrying about immigration, now I’ve got the DEA all over the joint. (sorry, bad choice of words) Really hope they don’t confiscate my new coffee maker.

Sounds like Valpo Ernie may be going in for awhile. Just when you think you know a guy.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Sorry about your new friend’s departure.

How many boxes of Girl Scout cookies do you have around there?

Next time, why don’t you make a donation to the Girl Scouts and go buy an apple?

Mrs. Higgins

Issues in Left Field

2009-03-21T08:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

It started with Uncle Stan. Then my big brother Cecil, who is kinder and gentler (and would probably wince at the Bush Sr. reference). Then Donald Miller, the Blue Like Jazz guy. And now: Anne Lamott.

I’m starting to love liberals. I think this is a problem.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d still rather see a person get a job than a handout. I believe unions are a big part of what’s wrong with our economy, corporations can actually be good things, less government is always better, and Reagan was the best president this side of Lincoln.

But liberals aren’t stupid. It would be a lot handier for me if they were.

And now, some are worshiping the same Jesus I do.

Not mother earth, or the sky, or trees, or Al Gore, Jesus.

I even like Obama. So far out of dozens of things he has proposed, I agree with two of them: revamping education and stem cell research.

The rest of his stuff, not even close.

And I even liked him on Leno the other night, although W would have been impeached and probably shot for the “Special Olympics” comment.
(most likely during the next commercial break)

Anyway, Mrs. H, I liked it a lot better when I considered all liberals short sighted, atheistic, idiots.

I don’t think I want to start loving these people.

What do I do?

Mike

Dear Mike,

You may be starting to grow up.

Of course you can love people with opinions different than yours.

Not everyone thinks like you do.
(that in itself is evidence of a kind and loving God)

Just love them.

And once in a great while, when you aren’t proclaiming your truth from on high, you can be quiet and listen.

You don’t have to join the ACLU, but you can listen.

And I agree with you about Ronnie.
(agreeing with you always makes my stomach a little upset - now where‘s my Pepto)

Love and kisses,

Mrs H.

Having it my way

2009-03-20T09:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Working out on the road a few days ago, I needed to stop and grab some lunch.

As you know, I’m all about the health food, so I’ve decided on tofu and bean sprouts.

Unfortunately this particular interstate exit doesn’t have Tofu King, so I settle for a double whopper with cheese.

Then the guy behind the counter asks me “what size?” Now, I’m a little confused. I thought I had kind of settled this with “double."

You mean like what sized cow do you have to knock down to get this baby on the grill, or what?

Turns out the size is for fries and drink. Oh.

Anyway, I go for medium, which I figure is a safe bet, and the fry portion looks perfect. Then he pulls out about a half gallon of Coke, which I assume is for the family of four in line behind me.

Nope. All mine. I can’t even pick it up with one hand.

I’m wondering what the large is like until I look across the restaurant and see a guy with his face in what appears to be a wash tub. Oh.

As I’m finishing my meal and wondering why I’m having so much trouble losing weight, I notice that BK is now in the fine gem business.

Yup. Some kind of Pink Panther movie promotion that includes necklaces with pink stones.

Ok, I’ve seen the crowns. In fact I was wearing one during lunch - kinda makes me feel regal. (and don’t think folks don’t notice, they do)

But I was wondering how many people purchase jewelry here.

Honey, I’m home! I brought supper! And a little something for our 25th wedding anniversary! Hey, who needs ketchup?

Anyway Mrs H, I know your birthday is coming up. I think you’re going to be very pleased this year. (and could include onion rings!)

Mike

Dear Mike,

Lets recap: you were a little confused.

Do you have any new information?

Hate to take away from you feeling regal, but I think the crowns are for kids.

And lets just skip exchanging birthday presents this year.

Mrs Higgins

Cousin Art - the Sequel

2009-03-18T08:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs Higgins,

As you know, I’m all about the mastery of things electronic, and my new coffee maker is no exception. Finished the 4th instructional dvd last night about midnight titled: “Regular cleaning of the coffee chute.”

I wouldn’t hesitate to call it the feel good movie of the year, and very informative.

Thus armed, I tossed in some coffee beans, water, a couple burritos for Jose, and scheduled my first brew for 6am.

First thing this morning and I’m enjoying the aroma of fresh brewing coffee.

Sweet!

That preceded slightly by the automatic bean grinder which sounded a bit like two guys cutting through my coffee table with chain saws.

Alarm clock? No necessito!

Anyway, Mrs. H, stop by for a cup of java. I’m up to speed!

Mike

Dear Mike,

You’re up to speed alright.

I will come by for a cup. I’ve heard that your new machine can make the best coffee this side of Starbucks - which is a place apparently just a little past your “mastery.”

Nice you and Jose are chatting.

Mrs. Higgins

Cousin Art

2009-03-16T10:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Another year slid by and my kids helped celebrate the big day by getting me a new coffee maker. They know how much the old man loves coffee, and bless their hearts, they wanted to get me the best.

Ok, the thing is about the size of a phone booth. There is a place for water, a place for beans, there are a couple coffee plants growing in the back, and I’m pretty sure a guy named Jose, who I’m guessing tends the plants, is living in there as well.

So this morning I uncrated the thing and started checking out all the components. The instrument panel is nothing out of the ordinary, if you fly DC-10’s a lot.

But hey, I’m a learning curve kind of guy. So I dug right in. I’ll say one thing for this Art guy. He is friendly. Welcomed me to his family, which only sketched me out a little. I have enough cousins already, and they know how to spell. But I pressed on, read the first 8 chapters of the manual then watched a couple hours of the first instructional DVD.

But by now I’m getting the shakes from missing today’s caffeine, so I just drove to Starbucks. I like Starbucks, but never considered it a religious experience. But I’m pretty sure the lady in front of me started speaking in tongues. “Mocha latte expresso shota mucha java capachino” and on, and on.

Strange thing was, the guy behind the counter just smiled and handed her a drink. Guess that happens a lot in there.

So I order a cup of coffee and the guy just stares at me blankly, like there’s more for me to say.
Finally he blurts out: “venti?”

And I’m like “Hey dreadlocks, back off, this is still America!”

Anyway Mrs. H, I did finally get my cup of Joe and got the day started, although it was 4pm. I dig these time saving devices.

Just hope Jose has a green card. You never know when Obama may want me on his cabinet, and I don’t want to have any issues.

Mike

Dear Mike,

That would be the shortest vetting in the history of government.

By the way, that's Cuisinart, not cousin art. Its a brand name, not a family.

Why don’t you tend the plants and let Jose write me.

Mrs Higgins

Classic

2009-03-12T15:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs Higgins,

As you know, I’m all about improving my mind. So there I was spending quality time in the library checking out movies and music cd’s. Thought I’d catch up on some good old classic rock.

I checked out a handful of discs and when I got home I realized that one of them was by a guy called Tchaikovsky. I’m sure your thinking the same thing I did - this guy ain’t from around here.

Here I’m looking for some good Americans like the Beatles and Led Zeppelin and I end up with a Russian.

Turns out commies aren’t too creative when it comes to naming albums. This particular disc was called “Symphony 2 in C minor.”

Wow.

Spend a lot of time coming up with that one comrade? And do we really need to know what key its in?

Glad John Grisham doesn’t use your naming technique or “The Firm” might have been called “Novel 4 With Courier 12 point.”

Then Karl Marx lists his individual songs in, get this, Italian. I guess he was too ashamed of his crappy country so he starts taking like Papa Luigi in The Godfather.

“Adante sustenuto - Allegro vivo” Yeah, big whip. We all like pasta.

Anyway the music wasn’t too bad, if you really enjoy riding in an elevator.

Not sure how this obscure nobody made it to the library in the first place.

I’ll be returning Mr. Ruskie real soon.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Where to start.

Lets just say that the “obscure nobody” does have a bit of a following. Folks with every so slightly more sophisticated taste.

Why don’t you leave him on the shelf for those people.

I have an idea, next time you are in the library, why don’t you check out a book.

Start with one with pictures if you like.

And unless Obama bought Great Britain last week, Beatles and Led Zeppelin aren’t too American either.

Nice to hear from you,

Mrs Higgins.

Kids These Days

2009-02-06T11:55:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs Higgins,

Recently I heard a high schooler say he couldn’t wait to get home and play with his wee.

I told the young man in a quiet voice, that I understood, but maybe that isn’t the best thing to talk about in public.

Shortly after that, another young man complained that he was exhausted from playing with his wee all night.

Kinda winced a bit on that one, but who knows, maybe he doesn’t have cable.

Later I heard a group of kids planning an entire party on Bill’s wee.

Hmm.

Well, as you know Mrs H, I’m a live and let live kind of guy.

And I’ve had my wild times. As you recall, sophomore year I was vice president of the chess club. So I know all about things getting a little crazy.

Not sure we have to have all this talk about it though.

Oh well, another generation. And I think someone needs to explain to Michael Phelps what “going green” really means.

What do you think Mrs H?

Mike

Dear Mike,

Its Wii, not wee. It is a video game. Do you ever leave your
office?

Maybe you should worry less about the new generation and
more about yours.

Too bad about young Phelps. The picture with the bong will likely not appear on Corn Flakes, although there may be a late night market there.

And yes, I’m sure you were quite the wild man - chess boy.

Mrs Higgins

Pit Stop

2009-02-03T15:42:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs Higgins,

Returning from a grueling, important, high powered, business trip, a good friend of mine picked me up from the airport.

We are driving through a part of Chicago I’d rather see from the plane I just got off of, and my friend, who I’ll call Frank (although his real name is Tim) hits a pothole that could easily house a medium sized cow.

Frank/Tim, displaying excellent driving prowess, is able to keep the car from rolling over. But sure enough, in a couple hundred yards we are riding on 3 inflated and one flat.

Due to all the work, and stress, and exertion of my previous trip, I’ve taken a bit of a cold. And this lovely Chicago evening its about 10 with the wind howling.

When I remarked that I had a AAA card, Frank/Tim/Dip@#$% said he didn’t think they would come to this part of town, and if they did, they wouldn‘t be in a hurry.

Lovely.

So while I’m just delighted with Tim, he seems pretty giddy about driving a couple hours of Friday rush hour traffic to save me a few bucks on parking - with his 7 month old daughter in the back seat.

No worries. A couple sharp mechanics would get that tire changed in no time.

What that has to do with Tim and me, I’m not sure.

Fortunately, we had no one bother us. Not sure who would attack a pudgy, red faced, swearing, sneezing, coughing, lug wrench wielding maniac, but you just never know. (and Tim did have my back)

Only later, after dropping Tim and the baby at his house did I wonder how that road could have gotten that bad.

As I approached a toll booth on the expressway home, it became clearer. Gov Blago’s name appears in big letters on each toll road sign. I could almost picture his hand grabbing the change as I tossed it in the basket.

Anyway Mrs Higgins, watch out when you are driving. I know your eyes aren’t what they used to be.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Next time you go on a “high powered business” trip, take your briefcase, not your skis.

And what in the world are you doin draggin that young daddy and his baby out to fetch your butt from the airport. I’ve seen that baby. She is as beautiful as her mama, and has no business riding through Chicago winter streets to save you a couple bucks.

Its called a taxi.

And if you are having trouble pulling a couple twenties out of your pocket, just close your eyes and pretend you’re back buying $6 beers at a ski lodge.

And my eyes are just fine. I just don’t drive after dark anymore.

You’ll get there too boy, maybe.

Mrs Higgins

Super Size

2009-02-02T15:18:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I’m channel surfing yesterday and reminded of Springsteen’s song “57 Channels and Nothin On” when all of sudden, there is the Boss himself!

Sweet!

Looks like a pretty similar crowd to most Springsteen shows when, all of sudden, they stop the concert for a football game.

No kidding, a football game.

And it was a couple teams nobody cares about anyway. I think it was St Louis and the Steelers.

I’d hate to see Springsteen interrupted for Bears/Packers, but these two nobodies?

Anyway, the Boss is aging pretty well, but Little Steven, well lets just say we may need a new nickname. I’m just glad HE didn’t have a wardrobe malfunction.

So anyway Mrs H, did you catch Bruce?

Mike

Dear Mike,

I did see your buddy during half time of the Superbowl.

A couple of us were aware it was the big game day, like maybe 200 million or so.

Way to keep up.

Also, for your information, the Cardinals moved to Phoenix from St. Louis in 1988. You may want to jot that down somewhere.

Funny, you badmouthing Little Steven. You got any mirrors that ain’t broke at your house, or did you lose a contact lens?

Its a new year, honey. Try and sit up a little straighter,

Mrs Higgins

Bunny Hill

2009-01-12T18:23:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs Higgins,

As you know, I’ve taken up snow skiing. Totally typical behavior for someone in their prime and in top physical condition.

I’m telling you though, the preparation ritual for a day on the slopes is something straight out of middle ages. (I’m guessing you remember those days)

It starts with the getup.

I have these high-tech socks, with which I could pretty much walk across Antarctica without shoes if I wanted to. (and I’m thinking about it)

Then there are the high-tech longies. Really didn’t want white, but that was all they had in stock. They are the only things in North America whiter than my legs.

Next comes the shirt of pain. Ok, that’s not what its called, but “if the shoe fits…” and it really, really doesn’t.

I paid more for this stupid-ass, sweat wicking, armour all, pro athlete shirt than any shirt I’ve ever bought. They said at the sporting goods store: “its supposed to be tight.”

Yeah well, I’m supposed to breath. And, at 9000 feet that's hard enough without wearing this stupid corset.

And, after shoe-horning my chassis into this thing I had the misfortune to walk past a mirror.

Oh boy.

Think: 10 lbs of bleep in a 5 pound bag.

Gandhi, I ain’t.

Ski pants, sweatshirts, coat, gloves, hat, goggles, the preparation continues.

Now I’m excited. I‘m lightheaded. I’m out of breath. I’m sweating. I’m really exerting myself.

And then, …. I put on the other ski boot.

Who in the world ever invented these stupid things. Getting into them is a freakin workout. (pretty much need a nap after, but who could possibly sleep with these f.ing things on)

Well, its been a good start. Not sure how to get myself to the ski runs from here, but I did find the pub.

I love this sport.

Mike

Dear Mike,

I caught your smart assed remark about the middle ages. For your information, that was the class ahead of me.

But speaking of “in their prime and in top physical condition” Is that somebody I know?

Good that you took up another sport.

Just so you know: it supposed to be outdoors.

Mrs H

Fruitcake

2009-01-07T10:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Happy New Year to you and thanks again for the fruitcake. Its always a special treat.

I used a piece of it to chalk the back wheels of my car when changing a tire. And was able to sell the rest to a well drilling company. They are always looking for a material hard enough to cut through granite.

Speaking of fruitcakes, I saw our beloved Governor on national TV the other night. He was in a thousand dollar suit, smiling and shaking hands, and introducing his selection for US Senate.
(I could almost hear a cash register ching-ching)

And, here is the strange part, people are smiling back and actually appear happy to see him. And his candidate seems totally comfortable being on a podium with him.

Did I miss something?

This is the guy who is quoted on a federal wiretap saying the seat is worth some f-ing money. Shouldn’t he, and everyone around him be, oh, I don’t know, ASHAMED????

Isn’t congress itself losing a little credibility by “playing nice ” with this guy?

I’d really like to see Blago on national TV, Brady Bunch haircut and all, in a bright orange jumpsuit with his hands shackled to his side.

That is an image that might encourage a few more ethics in politics.
(not that we need that in Illinois, or anything)

What do you think, Mrs. H?

Mike

Dear Mike,

Don’t get too excited. As usual, you have about half the story right. The senate rightly decided to reject anybody the governor chose.
(there is most likely a “stop pay” on a check somewhere)

And did you say “ethics” and “politics” in the same week? You might want to give the Old Style a day off or two.

It did kind of creep me out though, seeing Blago working the crowd.

Can you smile at someone, shake their hand, and vote to impeach in the same day? (Hope so!)

Stop insulting the Brady Bunch. You know that is one of my favorite shows.

And especially don’t you go making fun of my fruitcake. That recipe has been in my family for years.

And looking at you, next year I’m thinking: more fruit, less cake.

Mrs H.

Media Bias

2008-12-10T12:53:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

With the elections over I thought we were past all this slanted spin on every political story.

I was wrong.

Don’t know if you’ve been following the story, though its hard not to the way the press has been forcing it on us: the lynching of our Governor Blagojevich.

I’m telling you the press has been ridiculous with these trumped up charges that are hardly worth mentioning.

Trumped up charge #1: selling the senate seat vacated by President Elect Obama.

Well comrade, this is called “revenue”. Its part of running a “business” in a free trade place we call America.

This anti commerce commie press has really got to realize that profit is a good thing. Next we’ll be closing down lemonade stands.

Trumped up charge #2: withholding state payments to a children’s hospital until contributions are made to his office.

Ok, this sounds bad. But the one question I haven’t heard anyone ask is: are these kids really sick?

Oh, no Mr. Reporter bypasses the key questions to maliciously tar the Governor’s good name.

Trumped up charge #3: getting high paid, cushy jobs for his wife in exchange for state contracts.

Here is a man trying to do something to help out around the house. Sorry to inform the anti-family press, but taking care of the Mrs. is what we call family values.

Anyway Mrs. H, I’m sure this is just a tempest in a teapot. After the press finds somebody else to viciously attack, Rod will coast himself into the senate. And I’ve already ordered my “Blago for President 2016” t shirts.

All he needs is a real “law and order” VP. I wonder what Elliot Spitzer is doing these days.

Mike

Dear Mike,

The only place your buddy Rod is going to “coast into” is the penitentiary. Maybe Mrs. Blago will have an adjacent cell.

Did you say “law and order” and “Elliot Spitzer” in the same week?

Keep the tshirt, boy. Your car is always dirty anyway.

Love and kisses,

Mrs H.

Welcome to Walmart

2008-12-02T09:08:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I know we are in the throes of a recession bordering depression.
Things are bad. Way bad.

Every day the news gets worse. Another bank closes. Stock market plummets.

Freddie Mac, Fannie Mae, Fannie Pack, all in big trouble.

So I was only a little startled to see that Friday after Thanksgiving there were lines at Best Buy several hours before they opened at 4am.

4am. Best Buy. Holy Shit! Really?

I’ve seen pictures of the lines from the last depression. Unshaven guys with tattered clothes standing in line for a bowl of soup.

Now we’re looking at folks, just as troubled, just as passionate, scoring great deals on iPods and DVD players.

I’m thinking that if there really was a depression, would anyone want ANYTHING from Best Buy? (think: food, shelter, clothing, digital cameras)

So, anyway Mrs. H, with all respect for the depression you went
through, but this seems a little like depression lite.

And here is the kicker: a greeter at a Walmart in New York city was crushed to death as the store opened on black Friday (aka black and blue Friday)

Crushed to death.

By people trying to save money on Christmas presents.

I haven’t been so confused about how we celebrate Jesus birth since
“don we now our gay apparel”

Not everyone understands the true meaning of Christmas. That’s why, I’m off to buy a couple electric deer for the front yard, to set an example for the entire neighborhood.
(hope folks don’t think I’m too religious)

Be careful at Walmart,

Mike

Dear Mike,

Yeah. You’re an example alright.

Go light up your deer. Hopefully the neighbor kids won’t “arrange” them this year.

Mrs H.

Get Sirius

2008-11-19T11:12:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I was buying a pack of gum at a convenience store the other day and noticed that I was on 5 video cameras. In addition, my every move was closely monitored by the cashier behind the counter.

Today I read that pirates have captured a $100 million supertanker near the Somali coast. They just drive their little boats along side, toss a grappling hook over the edge and now the Sirius Star belongs to Mr. Pirate and company.

Seems like maybe the convenience store could provide a little security training to ocean going vessels.

Maybe part of the problem is that the Sirius, which is about a fifth of a mile long, is operated by 25 people.

25.

McDonalds uses 26 to manage the breakfast rush.

Well you know me, Mrs. H. I say, if you can’t beat em, join em.

That’s right. I’m going to get a black eye patch, and a bottle of rum and get on the bandwagon. Not exactly sure what I’ll do with a thousand foot supertanker, but I’m pretty sure the local pawn shop will be part of the solution.

Maybe I should start with fishing boats at Lake Shelbyville.

Do you know where I can buy an arm hook?

Mike

Dear Captain Hook,

Congratulations on your new career choice.

Definitely start with raiding tackle boxes and beer coolers. Then it’s a small step to international waters.

Or you could just get two eye patches, drink the rum, and pretend like its every other Wednesday night.

Mrs H.

Dating and other natural disasters - part 2

2008-11-12T09:53:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Had a strange experience the other night and I wanted to get your opinion.

I had a date over at my house, and the night is going really well.
Suddenly, she leans in and asks softly, “Do you have any protection?”

Well, as you know, I've been around a little, and knew just what she was really asking.
“Absolutely,” I nodded knowingly. “State Farm: homeowners AND vehicle.”

Then, for effect, I whispered in her ear, “100 dollar deductible.”

I know that was probably over the top, but thought if I could make an impression, why not. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

Her reaction was a little different than expected. She shook her head and pointed down saying, “you know, protection.”

That’s when I realized that this girl was way smart.

How could she possible know that my shoes had steel toes. I mean, there’s no way to tell by looking.

So I smiled and said: “You’re good baby! Do you want to drop something heavy on my toe?”

Ok, Mrs. Higgins, here is the strange part. Instead of maybe stepping on the end of my foot, or putting a table leg on top of my shoe, she is starting to leave.

Turns out she left her curling iron on, a cake in the oven, and her cat outside. She is really in a hurry to get out of here.

So here is my question Mrs. H: Should I be dating a girl that is so forgetful?

Tell me what you think,

Mike

Dear Mike,

I wouldn't be too concerned. "Miss Forgetful" will probably remember enough that you won't have to worry about it.

By the way, I wouldn’t share this information with your State Farm agent. They can cancel people, you know.

Try not to “flaunt it” any more than you have to.

Mrs. H

Still unsafe at any speed

2008-11-05T08:00:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Did the American thing today. Yes, I flipped off an illegal immigrant. (just tryin to do my part)

Ok no, actually I voted. Its always an interesting process. Pretty laid back and easy here. The voter police here in Savoy take it way seriously. Pretty sure they were doing this same job during the Roosevelt election. Not FDR, Teddy.

These girls verified my name, address, and signature. Wish I was as thorough at my job.

That said, as I walk away, I can’t help but think about the price paid for this cushy right I always take for granted. These blue hairs and this process are about as American as you can get.

Its an incredibly beautiful fall day here. Not a cloud in the sky, and I have my flag flying, as do a bunch of my neighbors. The leaves are just about maxed out in a way that only they can.

And I’m thinking: America is a pretty good gig.

So as I step into the booth to set this country aright, I see that Nader is running for president, again.

Really. Ralph freakin Nadar.

It made me want to ask Pamela Anderson out on a date.

“So you’re saying there’s a chance!”

I’m picturing Ralph sitting in his living room, watching the results come in saying:
“Wow! .004 percent. I thought I was gonna carry that state. Should have made one more speech at the local head shop”

Maybe GM will send him a Corvair.

What do you think, Mrs. H?

Mike

Dear Mike,

Don’t be bad mouthing the Corvair. Best car I ever had.

Glad you voted.

Go give your life guard friend a call, but I’d bring penicillin.

Love,

Mrs H.

History note to young readers:
In 1965 Ralph Nader wrote a book called “Unsafe at Any Speed”
blasting General Motors, and the Chevy Corvair particularly. It was the beginning of a whole world of reviewing products for safety, and launched Mr. Nader’s career. The book is credited with actually improving safety design in American autos. So the guy isn’t the useless tool he appears to be. (well almost isn’t)

Instruction Manual

2008-11-03T13:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I recently bought one of those all-in-one printer, fax, copier, scanner, expresso maker, liposuction machines. It was under 300 hundred beans from Best Buy, and does everything but sell popcorn at half time.

It even will tell me when its low on toner. It has a reorder web site all queued up and tied to my bank account to pull out whatever it needs, whenever it needs it. (sweet!)

It didn’t come with a manual.

At all.

Not even one page.

Usually you’ll get 6 pages of pictures and instruction to inform you how to safely remove your new “whatever” from the box. Then another several pages dedicated to the safety concerns running that, ever so tricky, electrical plug in.

And, normally there is tons of “valuable information” safeguarding against using the product for something other than intended.

This, I find especially informative. It keeps me from using this computer printer as a life saving floatation device, a claw hammer, or a condom.

Knowledge is power!

Yet, even without the comfort of printed instruction, I’ve kind of figured out how to use the main features, and we’re getting along about as well as the rest of the office.
(aka, nothing has caught fire)

Adjusting to this Brave New World of having to figure out stuff by myself, I’ve pressed on.

Until today, when I bought a new coffee thermos.

It came with instructions.

4 pages. In, I think, 5 languages, hard to tell.

And, ok, I get it. The nuances and complexity of pouring a liquid which could be hot OR cold into a device, then fully expecting that same device to retain same hot or cold (whew!)

And I haven’t even touched on the intellectual labyrinth of trying to get something back out! (what is this, MENSA??)

Well, we soldier on. We play the cards we get. We do what we gotta do.

I’ll pour coffee in that bad boy tomorrow morning, and hope that somehow I can get it back out.
(may even learn a little Chinese/Korean/Farsi in the processes - thats how we grow)

Just hope I don’t receive a fax at the same time.

Much love,

Mike

Dear Mike,

Yeah. You're MENSA material alright. Good luck embracing the technology!

Love,

Mrs Higgins

Holiday Spirit

2008-10-31T17:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

You know how oversensitive my neighbors can be, so you won’t be surprised by this at all.

Halloween night, and I’ve just got back from my own trick or treating. Kind of a disappointing year actually. Most people just slammed their doors and called 911. (probably thought I actually WAS Spiderman and needed to connect to the proper authorities. Sometimes my costumes are just TOO good)

Anyway, a little tyke, dressed as a leprechaun, shows up at the door. The little guy is adorable in green and all, and in keeping with tradition, I give him a pint of Guiness.

Suddenly his mom appears out of nowhere (I think she was hiding behind a tree) and makes this huge scene. Like really, do you think this 7 year old wanted a Snicker?

I think its about time parents do a little homework, and be a bit more open minded. Its Halloween after all.

So the night moves on, and since traffic is a bit slim, I’m kinda sampling the wares - getting ready for the next onslaught of neighborhood “ghouls and goblins“.

Getting toward the end of the trick or treat time and here comes a Princess. I’m thinking: she must be an Irish princess, so I offer up another pint.

Now this mom, also super overprotective, jumps in and has a “problem”. I know what you’re thinking Mrs. H: “hey, lets get in the spirit of the holiday!”

Shortly after, a kid comes up as R2D2, you know, the robot from Star Wars.

And I’m thinking robot: yes, Irish robot: hell yes! But the Guiness supply is dwindling, probably from all the Leprechauns earlier, but not really sure, so I offer up a piece of corned beef.

Wow.

All I can say is kids aren’t nearly as grateful as they were in my time. Probably too many video games.

Last trick or treaters of the night are a Harry Potter and a hobo. Great costumes. And, as we all know, totally Irish. But the Guiness and corned beef are gone, so all I can pony up is a little piece of cabbage.

(I’m holding back the Jameson in case I develop a cough later tonight - could happen)

Surprisingly, that didn’t go well either. Kids are clearly eating so much McDonalds that they don’t appreciate good quality food.

Anyway, Mrs. H, how was your Halloween? I know your townhouse is a little harder to get to, but I’m sure the kids in your neighborhood are tracking you down.

And more importantly, what’s wrong with the children of America?

Mike

Dear Mike,

Number one problem: you’re 51 and you still are one.

Number two: you may want to put your house on the market.

Sleep it off, and we’ll talk again. Hope your cough gets better.

Mrs H.

A lesson from Joe Dog

2008-10-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I love the little guy.

Actually, I delight in him. He really doesn’t have much practical use, but there you go. He has been described as being so ugly he’s cute, and I’m comfy with that. I’ve trained him to go to the bathroom where he is supposed to, but that is about as far as his education has gone.

Most of the time he doesn’t listen much to me. He may look at me, but pretty much has his own agenda. Even when he is doing something stupid and against his own best interests, he will, most of the time, ignore my commands.

He does love me though, in his own way. He'll get all excited and give me all kinds of attention, then gradually move away to do his own thing.

I love to watch him run. We’ll go out for a walk and I’ll let him off the leash, and he just takes off. Strange how I get joy just watching him run free. He’ll go quite a ways, but always checks in with where I am, and how far away he is.

The other night, it was storming. He always wigs out when there is a storm out there, so he’s following every step I take. He insists that I pick him up and hold him. Kind of whiney and persistent, he needs tons of attention. I hold him, and his teeth stick out, and his breath stinks (probably from the goose poop that he loves), and he’s totally demanding.

Finally the thunder quits, and he settles down.

Shortly, he’s back doing his own agenda - totally ignoring me.

I think Joe's teaching me about God and me.

I totally love the little guy. Actually, I delight in him.

Mike

Dear Mike,

I have a hard time telling you and Joe apart, white beards and all, but you may be onto something.

Keep going to the bathroom where you are supposed to and consider upping your education.

If we all would realize how much He delights in us, I think we'd live a lot better and have a lot more peace.

Think about crawling on His lap even when the thunder isn't booming.

Mrs. H.

Trouble in Paradise

2008-10-20T17:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Before you see this on COPS, I wanted to give you a heads up. I had a little problem at Walmart.

Here’s how it played out: I had selected a product slightly ahead of another customer. The other customer insisted that the product was his, but I stood my ground. Words were exchanged, and then I gave the other customer a little shove.

That’s when the trouble started.

The “little shove” caused the other customer to fall backwards (obviously clumsy, and probably drunk) and hit his head on the floor.

Now, and I’m not exaggerating, he starts crying and calls for (are you ready) his mom.

Next thing you know, Miss Overprotective Mom is in my face, and calling for security.

Then, other customers start looking at me like I just shot a bald eagle.

Perhaps, at this time, it would be useful to review some important facts:

Fact #1: There are many stores that have the Spiderman Halloween costume BESIDES this particular Walmart.

Fact#2: Last year I got shut out of the Spiderman “lottery” by waiting till the last minute.

Fact#3: I’m a little bigger, and a little stronger, and: I won!

Then, overreaction set in.

I mean, seriously, you’d think 3rd graders were an endangered species.

Oh sure, there is a little blood dripping down the back of his neck, and maybe a few stitches wouldn’t hurt, but come on, maybe its time to toughen up a little.

Anyway Mrs. H, it’s a little snug, but come Halloween: I’m all set.
(can’t go back to Walmart for awhile, though)

What do you think,

Mike

Dear Spidey,

Oh. My. God.

You pushed a 3rd grader down over a Halloween costume?

Maybe, just maybe, this particular 10 year old wasn’t clumsy or drunk. Maybe you just outweigh him by: oh, I don’t know, 150 lbs?

Here’s a thought: you might be just a little old to dress up for Halloween.

If that doesn’t ring true with you, call a couple of your 51 year old friends and ask them to go trick or treating with you.

Here’s another thought. Instead of trick or treating - which frightens, I think everyone, why don’t you go buy a stock of celery and bag of carrots and pretend you “scored big” in the neighborhood.

You ARE scary, boy,

Mrs H.

Strange Urges

2008-10-16T11:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Made a roast last night for supper. Turned out pretty good. I even mashed a few potatoes and conjured up some gravy.

Took my feast into the living room to watch the debate, and almost lost my appetite. (key word here: almost)

I thought Obama carried himself pretty well but more than ever do I disagree with the man. McCain seemed a little too fiesty and defensive. I was waiting for him to leap to his feet, point at Obama, and yell “and did you notice he’s black!!”

Pretty cute how neither one of them answered the questions. It was sound bite city.

And I know I’m not the brightest star on the Christmas tree, but I absolutely couldn’t understand either one of their “plans” for health care. (note to self: stay healthy)

All I was able to discern was that: we have a record setting deficit for the year just ended, since then we’ve spend hundreds of billions bailing out every financial institution larger than a lemonade stand, we are going to add a whole bunch of new government programs to solve everyones problems, and everyone is going to pay less taxes.

Sweet math! That’s how I run my checkbook!

So anyway, this morning I had a little chunk of leftover beef and a couple hard boiled eggs for breakfast. Joe, of course, was begging the entire time. I have no idea how or why he learned to do that. Naturally, I left a couple scraps on the plate and let the little guy finish em off.

Several hours later (ok, maybe it was 2) I decide on lunch of tuna and salad. Only first, I had to walk past the fridge with the leftover beef, potatoes, and gravy.

I think I would have made it except for the gravy.

Justified by the undeniable fact that tuna will keep longer than leftover spuds, I loaded up a plate and had an awesome lunch.

As I was letting the K9 unit finish up the scraps (again), it dawned on me that that was the same plate I used for breakfast.

Yup, no dishwasher. Just Joe. I’d grabbed the plate off the counter that I (uh, I mean WE) used for breakfast.

Now Mrs. Higgins, I’m concerned: I really, really want to chase a tennis ball. I mean that’s all I can think about. The tennis ball. Its right there - and I get it - and I want it so much - and I throw it - and I get it again - and I bounce it, and I can’t seem to stop….

That’s not all. I keep trying to groom myself in a strange, and totally inappropriate way.

Can you help me, Mrs. H?

Mike

Dear Mike,

Not without a lobotomy.

If I lived closer I’d scratch behind your ear and swat you with a newspaper.

Try a clean dish next time.

Cannot believe you have lived this long.

Love,

Mrs H.
.

Dating and other natural disasters

2008-10-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

So, I get home the other day to see a call on my ID from a girl I’ve dated a couple times - nothing serious, and nothing lately.

No message, but I call her back and she has a computer question.

Yup, a computer question.

I want ‘em to love me for my body, but they love me for my mind. (which is also a bit scary)

Anyway, I help her with the computer issue, and we do really have a nice chat.
Then, suddenly, she lowers her voice, pauses, and says

“I’d love to get you in a gym sometime”

Ok, what?

A trashy hotel? A beach? The cereal aisle at Walmart?

No!

A gym.

Not sure what to think about this, Mrs. H. What’s your take on it?

Mike

Dear Mike,

As you already know, that girl bowls on a different night than you do.
She’s way out of your league.

But, come to think of it, every woman I’ve ever seen you with bowls any night but yours.

Aren’t you a little past that chapter where appearance is the thing?

Its ok if girls like your mind. (God help them)

Just be you.

But maybe a couple pounds less of you (how about 30) wouldn’t be a bad plan.

Kiss that little bruised ego like the boo boo that it is and go for a walk.

For a couple days.

Love and kisses,

Mrs. H.

Betrayed by Friends

2008-10-13T17:35:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

A couple nights ago, and I’m out walking Joe Dog: aka “The Underbite of Fright” (ok, I’m just tryin to make him sound a little tougher for Halloween)

Anyway, it gets to be about 10 or so, and I’m thinking I’ll go in, flip on the tube, and catch up on Dave, or John Stewart, or maybe Colbert, but then I remember:

I can’t watch these guys anymore. Things have changed.

The shows have become a pulpit for political point. Funny will come, but it will always come at the expense of McCain, Palin, and always, always W. The only people less popular than our president are, uh, congress - but they are a target less easy and not of interest.

I love political humor. Tons of it is really funny. The SNL parodies have been great (and I don’t think anyone can accuse Saturday Night Live of being right wing)

But my pseudo "friends" are getting meaner now. And there’s no attempt to balance.

I wish it wasn’t so transparent. Its supposed to be entertainment, but all I see is agenda.

I just can’t sit through it. I'd rather watch the Knitting Channel - and not just for the babes.
(well ok, partly for the babes)

What do you think, Mrs. H?

Is there something wrong with me?

Love,

Mike

Dear Mike,

Yes. And then some.

But you’re right. Politics is leaking into TV like commercials have leaked into movies.

Maybe you should think about getting "friends" that aren't just on your TV.

Why don’t you shut the thing off, and read a book.

A little learnin wouldn’t hurt you a bit.

Love and kisses,

Mrs. H

Bailout

2008-10-09T12:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I read today that someone farted at the New York Stock Exchange, and Henry Paulson promptly threw 10 billion dollars at him.

Where is all this coming from? Where is it going?

I want to get really worried about it, but I can’t understand it enough to start accurately stressing.

Do I need a bailout? Seems like a couple billion might be a good thing.

Mike

Dear Mike,

The only thing you need bailed out of is the prison of your own feeble mind.

I’m thinking maybe we’ve just had too much, bought on too much debt, for too long. House prices in California have been crazy for years - 1200 foot 2 bedroom for $750,000? No one thought it would end. California is getting a wake up call and the world is affected.

Now debt ain’t available. So we gotta throw all these billions to keep the debt rollin so all these financial institutions can keep building skyscrapers.

Maybe we don’t all need a $500,000 house or a $40,000 car - especially if we have to borrow to get it.

Maybe business expansion should come from yesterday’s profit, rather than debt - which is tomorrows profit.

Maybe we’re gonna get to simpler financial times.

But all these billions are goin to avoid the pain of that change.

You just keep workin boy.

Earnin is way better than borrowing or getting money from your Uncle Sam.

Love and kisses,

Mrs. H

Unencumbered

2008-10-02T15:05:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Some folks are really hurting and upset over this end to Wall Street. I mean there are guys with bleeding ulcers watching their fortunes plummet.

And the government is stepping in, and stepping in big. You gotta wait 5 days to buy a handgun, but we can loan 88 billion to AIG faster than you can say Hank Paulson has a bad hair day.

And, of course, Nancy Pelosi, who can’t spell SEC, is showing her sweet self through all this. Her vitriol was so strong even some of her own party ran scared. (I think they were afraid she might bite them) If that girl could blame original sin on W. she would.

But here’s the thing: a lot of people aren’t bothered by the whole credit crisis.

They don’t care.

The whole thing is a long way away and has no relevance to their lives.

Sometimes less is more.

I think wealth is great for a lot of things, but I see it really pull people down. They don’t call em trappings for nothing.

Some guy is wringing his hands in anguish as his 2 million just went to 600k. Another guy is deciding on which pizza to order and wondering how many Old Styles are in the fridge.

What do you think, Mrs H?

Mike

Dear Mike,

I think you ought to think about ordering a salad and switchin to diet coke.

You’re right about things though. At any level the stuff we own, owns us right back.

Think about the time you spend mowing your big yard, vacuuming your nice pool, cleaning up your fancy house.

Your things take up a bunch of your time.

Maybe you need to simplify. Not your mind though, that’s simple enough.

Now you remember Joe Biden in your prayers tonight. You ain’t got no real enemies, so you have to make do.

Love you boy,

Mrs H

Near Death Experience

2008-09-29T13:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Recently, I was golfing with a guy I work for at his country club. The day was perfect: not a cloud in the sky, light breeze, warm but not too hot. The course is one of those with mature trees, and beautiful settings on tees, greens, and all around.

Like a lot of country clubs the course was sparsely populated. Seemed like we had the whole course and day to ourselves.

We’d played about 6 holes and I cannot do anything wrong. I’m hitting fairways, landing on greens, making putts, just really relaxing, playing well, and having a great time.

In the middle of the 7th fairway a real pretty girl drives up in a golf cart. Sunlight is shining off her hair and smile as she stops and asks if we’d like something to drink. I pondered her question for the briefest of moments and responded that a beer might be nice.

She bounced gracefully out of the cart and pulled out an iced cold can of Heineken and asked if this would be ok. I pondered her new question for the duration it takes light to traverse the width of a dime, and said that it would be great.

Then, as I reached for my money clip, she stopped me, smiled sweetly and said “I really can’t take your money.”

That’s when I started looking at the sky. I expected the next moment to be drawn inexplicably toward a huge light - wonderful and warm and inviting . I also looked closely at her feet. Were they actually on the ground or was she floating.

It was only an instant, but so real.

Then: I came back. Just not my time, I guess.

Thought you’d want to know: I’m back.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Glad you got back: from Stupidville.

By the way, you owe your buddy about $6 for that Heiny from Heaven. Guests don’t pay for anything at a CC, but members do and then some.

Maybe you ought to keep your blue collar ass on the public course.

Sit up JUST a little straighter,

Mrs H

Out of the closet

2008-09-22T11:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I’m learning about music. This seems strange. I’ve been playing the guitar since I was about 14, and singing even longer. Also played a horn of some kind in band for 5 years or so, but now I’m learning about music, and I’m wanting to learn more.

Lots more.

Something about the bass, this new instrument (and new band) is inspiring me to want to become a real musician.

You know I’ve been a very lazy guitar player. I used to capo around any song that had a single hard chord. (still do sometimes if all the chords are tough)

I’m even a lazier songwriter. Having written maybe 30 or 40 songs, I treat them like unloved step children. Couldn’t tell you the words or chords to more than a few, or
even list the songs themselves. They were important at the time, way important.
Now I have to stop and think how they go.

But now I’m starting to memorize music. I want to know the components of the chords, all about triads, and 7ths and 9ths and all the theory and how the bass can set the table.

I’m thinking I’ve been a closet bass player for years.

Do you know if there is a “Bass Player Pride” parade anywhere nearby?

Fondly,

Mike

Dear Mike,

Oh yes, I remember your band days. Used to love watching you at about 95 pounds marching and carrying that tuba that weighed 40 - especially on a windy day.

Maybe you are just growing up. Taking a little more care of the talents God has given you.

Its good for you. You’ve been resting and coasting for a long time.

Also doesn’t hurt that you are the weak link of the chain. I’ve heard those boys play, and you got some catching up to do - which is also good for you and your oversized ego.

And especially don’t forget this is ministry. Learn the theory. Set the table for the voices and other guitars, but remember to worship first and foremost. This ain’t no bar band.

Now get practicing.

Love and kisses,

Mrs. H

September 20, 2008

2008-09-19T11:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I think there are still good guys and bad guys.

And, as uncommon as it might be to say it out loud, I think the USA is still the good guy.

I read about Russia’s invasion of Georgia and how the first thing they did was destroy important infrastructure - like bridges that allow commodities in and out. Stuff that will take millions of dollars and months to rebuild. Stuff that cripples.

The same day I’m reading about the US building infrastructure of many kinds in Iraq. (not to mention tons of foreign aid projects in other parts of the world)

The concrete business in Venezuela is flourishing. So the government led by Hugo Chavez takes it over. (this after oil and several other successful industries have had a similar fate) Russia has had so many businesses confiscated by the government that they are having trouble getting foreign investors. (duh!)

The US also nationalized a few businesses. But these were business that, for reasons I can’t quite get my little mind around, are going down the tubes. Our government is trying to prop up, and support, not confiscate. There's a difference.

So while we wring our hands and say how bad we are, and how much we deserve to be hated, and we shouldn’t intervene, and blah blah blah blah… I couldn’t help but notice these two striking contrasts, and in just the last few weeks.

What do you think, Mrs H?

Mike

Dear Mike,

I ain’t wringing my hands, boy. It stings a little, but I agree with you. Even when it turns out wrong, I think our country tries to do the right thing.

Surprised you didn’t mention the latest “success” figures from Iraq.
Someone, not a politician, even used the phrase “winning the war”.

Now that will get Mrs. Pelosi’s skivvies in a twist.

Also saw that the World Health Organization cut its estimated number of malaria cases in half. Wasn’t W. a big force in getting netting etc.. to folks that needed it?

(imagine: W. helping save lives of poor people - that’s another twist for Nancy)

Now go put up your flag.

Mrs. H

September 19, 2008

2008-09-18T10:30:00.001-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Watched that movie Rudy last night. Don’t know if you’ve seen it, but its supposed to be one of those “inspirational” movies. Basically, it’s the story of a guy who is obsessed with going to Notre Dame.

So he works until he’s 30 or so, then lands in a prep school for a few years yearning for a time when he can paint football helmets.

Finally, his dream comes true and he gets to be a tackling dummy for 4 years. The movie climaxes on the last play of his last year when he actually gets in a game that is pretty much already decided. Then the team carries him off the field.

Wow.

Growing up Methodist, this whole Notre Dame magic is kind of lost on me. All I knew about it was there was a hunchback who rang the bell - not exactly what conjured up dreams in my little protestant existence.

But here’ s the point I want to make. The guy was a hobbit.

And, the way he gazed lovingly at Frodo, I’m pretty sure he was gay.

Now I’m a live and let live kind of guy, but its difficult for me to get inspired by a queer hobbit playing division 1 football.

Oh, they gave him a different name, and made him look all blue collar working in a steel mill and drinking beer. What the movie didn’t show was that he actually was a flower arranger and preferred white Russians.

(what a politically correct world we live in)

Then, at the very end of the movie, they make this BFD about little Samwise/Rudy being the only player carried off the field in Notre Dame history.

No shit.

Maybe next year they’ll get an elf to go out for the team and they can carry that wee one around as well.

Well gotta run, Mrs. H,

Mike

Dear Mike,

Paint chips. Must have been paint chips. Lots of em, and all leaded.

Mrs. H.

September 17, 2008

2008-09-18T10:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Sorry I haven’t been in touch lately. I’ve been busier than a feminist bashing Sarah Palin. (why did I think that a smart, articulate, family oriented woman would be kind of accepted)

Note to any woman running for office: if you want the support of feminist groups, you need to be front and center in favor of legalized abortion. (sorry, “choice” is for selecting ice cream)

Anyway, on a significantly more important note:

My front yard is mowed! Heck yeah!

As soon as I pulled that 8 year old 26 inch Walmart push mower (aka "PowerDeathBlade") into the front yard, the neighbors were up and cheering.

One kid even brought over a can of pop. (I’ll be really glad when he turns 21) Pretty soon the whole neighborhood was into it.

My home schooled neighbor kids put up a banner - “way to go Mike.” That was awesome! Hey, those people are just like us. They put on their plaid-bib-overall-shorts-school-uniforms one leg at a time - just like the rest of us.

So, I’m all about accomplishment Mrs H.

How have you been, Dearie?

Mike

Dear Mike,

Who the hell you callin “Dearie”?

Glad you got some work done. You may want to tackle the back yard now. You might find some tennis balls, maybe a racket, maybe even a court.

Pretty sure there is a couch out there somewhere too, Mr. White Trash.

And layoff those sweet children. I ain't exactly seen you on the cover of GQ lately.

Mrs H.

September 15, 2008

2008-09-15T13:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

How was your weekend? Did you catch the Cubs game last night?
Me either. That’s because it wasn’t televised - at least not downstate.

I spent the entire afternoon reclaiming my kitchen and office. Some people clean, some organize, some reclaim - not unlike turning a landfill into a city park. Anyway I’m Suzie Homemaker for 7 or 8 hours and decide I’d like to do a little something more conducive to my gender.

The Cubs/Astros game got moved to Miller Park in Milwaukee on account of Ike kinda changing agendas in Houston, and WGN was queued up to broadcast starting at 7.

I sit down at 7:15, snap an Old Style, and get ready to watch….Bob Newhart. No kidding. Bob Newhart.

Zambrano is throwing the first no-hitter for the franchise in 36 years and I’m watching Bob Freakin Newhart. I should have stayed on that channel - maybe I could have caught a couple Mary Tyler Moore episodes as well.

Oh well, tomorrow night they play the Brewers. Maybe I’ll get to see a little of that one - or maybe the Partridge Family.

Stay in touch,

Mike

Dear Mike,

You’re incredible. Your Cubbies are 7 and a half up in mid September and you ain’t happy. You got a short memory, boy.

Glad to year you’re cleanin up the house a little. Doesn’t hurt you to do some real work for a change. You may want to do a little mowing sometime too - pretty sure the neighbors are getting a petition going - again.

Be glad for what you got,

Mrs H

September 11, 2008

2008-09-11T14:33:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

And how are you today my post-menopausal friend? Find your teeth this morning to get through the oatmeal and prune juice?

Enough about you dear, I heard yesterday that Rush talked two hours about Obama’s “lipstick on a pig” comment.

Really.

Just when I thought there might be a place for some substance.

Any wonder liberals consider conservatives a bit dull?

And callers to Rush’s show fawn strikingly like Oprah’s fan base. …Dittos to you too, dude. (whatever the hell that means - I‘m sure there is a secret handshake involved)

Anyway, I would absolutely love it if McCain and Palin would really take the high road for the rest of the campaign. Not beat up on Obama’s experience, or harp on the fact that Biden belongs in an Oscar Meyer wrapper in the meat case - just point out how well more government works and how well it doesn’t. Maybe get out the crayons and spell out what free trade actually means.
(ok, I really do miss Ronnie)

Well, I’ll let you go. You probably need to get back to your “stories” (aka As the World Turns)

Love ya,

Mike

Dear Smart Ass,

And aren’t you just full of yourself today!

What happened, did you actually kiss a real girl instead of getting your lovin over a computer screen? (You know, you do remind me a lot of Kip, except I remember your high school hair, and that was all Napoleon)

And, as usual, you’re missing the point. Rush is an entertainer. He isn’t the great white carrier of the conservative banner - no matter what he or his fans think.

Neither is Fox. Both sell ads and need ratings. They’ll follow any story they think will attract attention. (think a half step above National Enquirer)

And don’t get too excited about teasing my breakfast. Your time will come to eat like this faster than you can say triple bypass.

And leave my stories alone, dammit. Boy, you are annoying.

Mrs H.

September 10, 2008

2008-09-10T12:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

The other day I was driving with two females. One happened to be a golden retriever, but female all the same. We were listening to one of those Sirius radios and we were dialed into the Oprah channel.

I like Oprah. I like her personality. She is an empathetic listener.
I think she wants to do good and does good.

Anyway, she is on her friend Gayle’s radio program, along with Gayle and her daughter. After about an hour or so of this I’m pretty sure I’m about to ovulate.

That aside, Oprah, Gayle, her daughter, and a group of several other women are talking (aka gushing) about Obama’s speech the night before. It was actually pretty cute for 45 minutes or so - these girls are really excited.

Oprah said watching him speak was the most important moment in her life. (she really should have gotten married and had a kid or three) She mentioned it in light of Rev. Martin Luther King, and a couple other black leaders, and important moments in the past.

She also said she would do anything to help him get elected, including stuffing envelopes or whatever other resource is available to her (and I’m thinking this is a bunch) She called him the man of light (which only creeped me out a little) and said that he pulled us all together spiritually (which only creeped me out a little more).

But then she said that his race didn’t matter.

What?

Ok Mrs. H, help me out here. Do you think if Obama was white or hispanic these girls would be peeing their pants? There’s nothing stupid about Oprah, but this sounds like utter bullshit to me.

What do you think?

Mike

Dear Mike,

First, even if you had the parts, you ain’t got the intellect to ovulate. But onto your question, I think you need a little more empathy yourself.

Maybe Oprah and the black community are over the top about Obama. But you gotta remember how far we’ve come. When Oprah was 15 years old, Selma and other places like it were way segregated. Blacks were treated poorly. Way poorly. Makes me ashamed of my country that I love. This was in our back yard.

And look at some of the lousy black leaders: Marion Barry? Jesse Jackson? Al Sharpton?

Now comes along a handsome, young, intelligent, responsible, family oriented black man running for the highest office in the land. I don’t like his more government ways anymore than you do, but I understand if his race supports him fervently.

How different is this from women voting solely for Hillary?

I think a black president would be good for our country. I’d prefer he or she comes from the other side of the aisle, but I’m thinking it may give hope and encouragement to a lot of Americans.

Not everybody sees things like you do.

Bye the way, how many times have you voted for a white male president?

And don’t be bad mouthin my girl Oprah again.

Love and kisses,

Mrs H.

September 9, 2008

2008-09-09T10:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Can't believe it! Tina Fey is running for Vice President! Was able to download/view her entire acceptance speech. She was awesome. I knew SNL was a good launch pad for careers, but this is off the scale. And wow! I had no idea she had such a big family.

Mike

===============================
Dear Mike - my misguided friend,

Actually, that is Sarah Palin, Governor of Alaska, not Tina Fey. Why don't you take a minute or two, look around the house, and get a clue.

Fondly,

Mrs H.
===============================

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

Oh. Huh. Was Sarah Palin on at the same time as Chevy Chase?

Anyway what a find for McCain.

I was surprized at the choice when I first heard about it, but she really carried herself well.
What the heck are liberal women going to do? 5 kids, great career, hocky mom toughness, but real warmth, executive experience, husband in a labor union, and girl next door cute. I guess they can always fall back on the warmth and sweetness of Hillary, Nancy Pelosi, and the wicked witch of the west.
(I have a hard time telling those three apart)

I have a feeling this girl will eat Biden's lunch in a debate. I looked up "wiener" in the dictionary and there was an 8 x 10 glossy of Biden. Good picture, though.

I can take Obama as president. Not my favorite, but I made it through 8 years of Clinton.
But I'd rather have 8 years of Obama that 8 minutes of Biden as commander in chief - gives me the chills just thinking about it.

Anyway, I've gotta go. I'm going to track down some old Saturday Night Live dvd's and do my political "homework".

Thanks for the heads up,

Mike

===================================

Dear Mike,

Wow.

Don't you have a job? God help the people you work for, with, or in the same county.

Anyway, as painful as it is to agree with you, on Biden: I must. The guy definitely belongs in a plaid jacket selling used Chevys. At least Obama's heart is in the right place, just wish he'd had a job of some kind before attempting one of the most difficult on the planet. We'll see.

As always, talking to you has been a real treat. I need excedrin. Maybe the whole bottle.

Please leave me alone,

Mrs H.

Sept 8, 2008

2008-09-08T17:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Higgins,

I finally have the remote all to myself. What do I do?

Thanks,

Mike

Dear Mike,

Well, dipstick. That actually is your cell phone. The TV remote doesn’t ring when you get a phone call. It would be so cool if your IQ wandered near 2 digits.
Take a couple weeks to figure out the new apparatus. Oops no, not that apparatus. That is your left buttock. Try again.

This is going to be fun.

Love and kisses,

Mrs. Higgins