Firstly, let me thank the woman who implied I was a BEACON OF HATE in last month’s issue. That’s what Free Speech is all about, right? Well written criticism. She and I must agree to disagree, like Southern Gentlemen – sorry, ladies, but when you’re older than dirt, you can get away with ANYTHING ... some women even let me open the door and pick up every tab; life has changed so much since The War Between the States ...
PREFATORY REMARK TWO:
Every Highlander should read the stunning book, “Lies My Teacher Told Me,” by James Loewen. This extraordinary book exposes that the great European philosophers utterly failed to give credit to their brilliant wives for the give and take dialectic that produced the profoundest discoveries – like Einstein’s E=MC2.
Now, down to business.
Yes, I saw this coming years ago and thus it has begun in earnest. Egypt and Sudan are waging an undeclared war over WATER. This, and you heard it here first, will be the resource – not oil – for which the best of America’s young men and women warriors will die for, face down in the sand; there won’t be enough water for mud. But, being resourceful, we should accelerate desalinization research and development. When?
THE TWO BRIDGE SOLUTION:
That was what the erstwhile LEO “Louisville’s Plain Brown Rapper” concluded was needed. I was convinced by the gang downtown and their million dollar consultants that we needed one in the East End. And I was likewise convinced by the East End gang with their multimillion dollar consultants that we needed one downtown. My simple solution – on the front cover, thanks to my former Boss, Joe Grove (back when LEO was ECCENTRIC) – was “The Plain Brown Rapper: The Two Bridge Solution.” Why not build both IN 1996 DOLLARS? Within a month, the consultants met and voila – said this was a great idea, their idea in fact ... Fancy that. I don’t give a hang for the credit and live simply.
BUT THE TRAGEDY IS THAT NOW, FIFTEEN YEARS LATER, NOTHING HAS BEEN DONE AND WE DEBATE HAVING A BLOODY TOLL BRIDGE ...
Well, I told ya so.
So, I end on that note. My Boss, Mary Jean Kirtley, made me stay up all night to write a brand-spankin’ new column since I was too mean to the lady who called me a BEACON OF HATE because the Ground Zero Mosque, yes, is protected in theory by the First Amendment portion dealing with freedom of religion. But, the “financier” supports Hamas and I support Israel ... and Hamas calls for the destruction of Israel and I do not think that cool ... and revered Justice Learned Hand said the First Amendment does not give liberty “to cry fire in a crowded theatre” (if you do, be close to an exit ... my streetwise advice ... smile). But a lady who claims to have read all my columns, one Summer Thompson, rather said it all. Better than I could. That’s what my Prefatory Remarks, above, would have addressed. Read Ms. Thompson’s letter to the editor in this issue; it’s better than this thrown-together, last minute drivel of mine. For real. True fact, as Dave Barry would say.
So, with Summer Thompson (as in machine gun ...) and Jon Ashley alive, I can go live on an undisclosed Caribbean island once again and never write another word.
Because they can out-gonzo me already. Maybe I’ll never write another word.
You can’t make me.
Maybe write something next month. Or maybe leave for warmer climes.
I’ve had to stay up two nights without sleep to work this little column into a crammed schedule, but my word is my bond and I told The Boss I’d get it done.
So, here tis. My purple bong calls. By the way, marijuana is medicine for manic-depression. See the article I co-authored with two psychiatrists, one quite famous, in some issue of THE JOURNAL OF PSYCHOACTIVE DRUGS. I also co-authored, with three other shrinks, an article that soon will be published in Ireland.
Closing thoughts: BUY LOCAL, TIP LARGE AND SHARE THE LOVE UNIQUE TO THIS QUAINT LITTLE VILLAGE KNOWN SO SIMPLY AS THE HIGHLANDS. And do your part to keep Louisville Weird. Should I flee for the fourth time on some West Indies isle like Nevis or St. Kitts ... or Tokyo, I hope to leave a bit of a Weird Vacuum that can be filled with but a tad of effort from you Rappites and Haters alike.
Perhaps you will miss me when I’m gone. Words of my beloved late mother, dead some 35 years. And yes, I do miss her. Just like she said.