Thursday, January 12, 2006

ONE DUTCHMAN, TWO DUTCHMEN, THREE........


--- --- --- --- ---

Mar Gavriel wrote: "Ironic, ain' it, that the largest town in America and the smallest town in America (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Amsterdam%2C_Indiana) share the same name? Well, they sort-of do...

Did you see the one about Hush Lake (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hush_Lake,_Minnesota) yet?
The percentages and statistics are hilarious."


I wrote: "I love the explanation of statistics, percentages and medians.
The swamp-queen and her two flippered minions.

Regarding that one-man town, I can just imagine the person who lives there."


Mar Gavriel asked: "And how do you imagine him?"


Which is a darn good question. What is the sole resident of a one-man town like?

If he's in any way Dutch (as the name of the town suggests he might be), he's probably a likeable but stubborn coot, who either refuses to move in with relatives elsewhere, or moved to N.A. precisely to get away from relatives.

He probably sleeps with his socks on.

He probably smokes unfiltered cigarettes.

His phone may be rotary.

His radio is always tuned to the same station.

He's quarreled with all men of the cloth in a forty mile radius.

He hasn't read a newspaper since the first Bush presidency.

And he probably is on record as saying that really, he prefers the company of deserted buildings to people, and isn't particularly impressed with the younger generation - which he probably prefaced or followed with a snide comment slamming the older generation, because the only generation of which he wholeheartedly approves is the one born between two days before him and two days after him - unless he's a twin.


--- --- --- --- ---
-
-
Maybe in another twenty years I too will be the sole occupant of some burg at the back of beyond, telling visitors "Ah remember when things wuz different, I do. Why, back in those days, the moon was still made of green cheese, Edam I think, until we found out it weren't. It's all Buz Aldrin's fault, him and that bunch on the Hollywood sound-stage......"
-
-
My visitors will take photos, and buy the post-cards. Then they'll leave.
And I'll return to my splendid abandoned buildings with the wind moaning through the cracks in their worn out clap-board, and in the empty streets dry leaves will dance in the gilded dust of evening.
-
-
--- --- --- --- ---

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Back of the hill is an absolute heretic and nobody should read his writings.

Anybody that reads this will be reading apikorsish garbage.

This is BITTUL TORAH.

I BITE! said...

Goddam you iz a poet!

Search This Blog

BEFORE THE RAINS

Well, sleep was sheerly awful. Legs. My cardiologist tells me that there is a solution for that. Yet I hesitate, because I'm walking mor...