SMACKING YOU IN THE KISSER WITH THE BUSINESS END OF COMMUNITY NEWS!!!!!
Greetings, Kingstoners. In lieu of my typical community profile this week, I’ve decided to write a direct letter to my neighbor Miles Clayborne, who, I’m deeply sorry to say, has contracted a terminal illness and has about six months to live. Since my life is my art (that’s the thing I always say– I was the first to say that), I figured he wouldn’t mind if I published this. Dear sweet Miles: here’s mud in your eye, you big goon.
Miles, it’s been quite a ride. You’ve been my neighbor for thirty years now, and in that time I can honestly say that thirty years have passed. You’ve been a guy, you’ve lived next door to me, and it’s certainly been. You will be gone soon, but believe me when I say that you will be missed, in the sense that people will notice you are dead. They will move on after a time, but of course that’s exactly what you’d want them to do, unless it isn’t. I will admit, Miles, that you and I were not exactly friends, and that your curt, aloof and monastically private manner once led me to report you (falsely, it turns out– boy, was my face raspberry red!) as a possible suspect in a rash of serial beatings in the Waterloo area. (I’m sorry, but you did fit the profile: you were a loner, you kept to yourself, and you never laughed at any of my jokes.) In any case, I’m just writing to let you know that I wish we could have been closer. You might say, of course, that choosing a public forum for such a letter is actually more hurtful than helpful. To which I would reply: that is exactly the kind of thing you’d say, you knucklehead– unless, of course, it isn’t.
RANDOM MAUNDERINGS: This coalition government business is bad news, Jack. The Canadian Declaration of Independence clearly states/implies that once a party is in power, its leader can, and I quote, “throw the government’s money down a goddamn well if it makes him happy,” endquote. It’s in a footnote. Look it up… Speaking of goddamn wells, I think we all know perfectly goddamn well that the Grammys don’t mean sweet tweet anymore. Coldplay. Pffft. Sounds like something you’d blast into your sinuses. Remember when the Grammys would nominate Bonnie Raitt every year, even if she hadn’t released anything? Halcyon days, forever gone… Is it strange that the cries of a newborn baby remind me of my first year in university? I don’t even know why… Saw the trailer for that Clint Eastwood “Gran Torino” movie. If I want to watch someone even older than me stop crime, I’ll watch “Murder, She Wrote”, which I do, often to keep from sobbing at the emptiness of my existence… I like minestrone soup as much as the next guy… Finally, Christmas is coming up, and if you don’t hear from me before then, have a good one, and remember that Christmas caroling constitutes trespassing with intent to kill at my house, you joyous little wretches, and I will defend myself.
‘Til next time!
Darren Springer
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