It's in my back pocket. My asspirations have been lowered since I put it there. I am recharging my government issue Android phone off the red current bush in the back yard.

I'm starting to disbelieve the conspiracy people. The government, who've been collecting my taxes for ever, and at the same address for 25 years want to know where I live. This so I can have my pension. They also want to know my age. And my bank account number. I told them that stuff a few weeks ago with my tax forms, but the same department has lost all that. They put my tax refund (1 percent back!) into that bank account, but I had to tell them about it again. They said I might have to show my birth certificate, which of course is not required to pay taxes, just to get back the pension money I gave them to mismanage for me.

I am bitterly disappointed at the lack of "Rapture". Golly, my rich evangelical neighbours had all that stuff including a sports car I was evilly lusting after, and had they left I was going to use their hot tub, car and other stuff. Then I was going to repent and be ok anyway. Now, nothing. I think they should share.

The only trouble I had with aforementioned constant church goers was when their kids unhooked my cable tv/internet line to watch movies, cutting me off. The cable guy came over and fixed it, putting tamper proof screws in the box in the corner of my yard by the current bush. Turns out they had that tool in their garage too, to fix the sports car I wanted. So I have a Mini Cooper and they have that old Triumph convertible.

Well, as far as yer wi-fi is concerned, it's about as good as my last hi-fi, the Blauplunkit unit with those SW buttons so I could listen to Ma'sCow broadcasts during your Keenedy cold snap with Crewschev. I even could get really high-Fidel-ity from yer Cuba, not to be confused with the Cluebase used by people hear to multi-track.

I'm all fer multi-track. See we North 'mericans have a hard up time with that, due to the diesel engines the oil monopoly makes us use. I was in train stations all over Europe where you could step right onto a 200 km. an hour train right at grade in a mall and wisk off to another country with decent beer.

I am grateful to have gotten home though. The pension cheques are pending, and I almost got killed off in a bicycle stampede at rush hour in Amsterdam. We need to send some of our bleeding heart Liberal political types over there to stop crazy 'dammers, from texting and cycling without mandatory helmets, horse blinkers, and turn signals on those bikes.

If ya ever need advice look me up, it's been too wet to plant and my feet are still frozen so I've lots of pondering of ponderous stuff to contemplate freely, just so as you don't take anything I say to the bank, nor do you take it seriously, unless I tell you that the Beatles didn't write no 3 chord songs eh?

John Conley
Musica est vita