Friday, November 15, 2019


One of my friends, both realworld and Facebook, is a bartender well-known for getting people drunk out of their gourd. Happily drunk out of their gourd. Not me, because I am an abstemious sort -- more so because neccessary medication and booze don't combine well -- but other people. Very many other people. What I'm saying is that he associates with drunks a lot.
But he has the personality quirks that suit that.

On social media the other day he sent this out into the void:

"I was dreaming that I met a talking raccoon named James that lived in my mom's backyard shed. He let me massage his paws and liked it when I scratched his belly even though it tickled and made him giggle. Like a little raccoon giggle."
End quote.

There is much going on in this charming dream. Almost makes you wish you were there. His dreams are better than mine.

I hope his mother has an apple tree in her back yard. Shed-raccoons probably love crisp apples in Autumn.

A plate of cookies now and then would also be appreciated.

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