Same Tune
Do you know the mullet man, who casts on St. A. Bay?
Same tune, second verse, couldn't be better, could be worse -- how?
Choices, every morning thoughts and choices about what to think on. Sometimes while the mind ruminates, the fingers dance along robbing the mind’s prerogative.
From my vocation, this should be a holy corner, but it isn’t, maybe later, eh? Maybe not. Thoughts returning,
- in the near channel just now, a large boat, not ship, passing offshore in the pitch black predawn darkness, its long row of lights along the side looking for all the world like cabin lights on Mark Twain's riverboat. Or the SS Tarpon: I snapped a pic but it didn’t take, maybe it wasn’t real, maybe --- naaah
- “15” the little square declares, looking closer, AUGUST 15 it says. Someone’s birthday, how old? IDK. Someone who remembers 9/11 but not Pearl Harbor? That would describe most everybody but me.
- yesterday morning my six-monthly checkup was fine. Later I was so happy that I had gone to Cleveland and not let nature take its course four years ago: took Kristen to Gene’s Oyster Bar for lunch. We shared four dozen, one dozen baked with cheese, three dozen steamed, add Tabasco at will or won’t. Ordered a mullet basket takeout to take home for Linda, but they had no mullet. As she opened our oysters in front of us the lady looked out the window and said, “Oh, here comes the mullet man right off the Bay, do you still want that mullet basket?” (duh) We took our take-out, oyster basket for us, mullet sides for Linda, two fish, backbone, tails and all. I always munch the crispy fried mullet tails, and yesterday Kristen had her first ever fried mullet backbone -- “How do you eat that, Papa? -- I’ll show you. --- want to try one? -- Sure.” We're Panama City natives, baby!! We munched our fried oysters as we drove around Millville, then home to St. Andrews. I’ll bet the mullet man cast for those right here in front of my house, he sometimes does. One day as he came ashore I asked, “Do any good?” Him: “Yep, got 38.” Me: “You can’t eat 38 fish for lunch, what do you do with ‘em?” Him: “I provide mullet to the little cafes around here.”
- Linda eats only the filet, pulls off the skin. !!!!! the best part of mullet is the skin, fried, salty and oily. Comes to mullet, I waste nothin’ but the head.
- Friday -- we’re going to Pensacola this morning, and I mean to have oysters and mullet for lunch again today.
- Hacked? Yesterday I got a friend request on FB. Thought that person was already a friend, but accepted anyway. Turned out some spammer had hacked her FB page, which came out when the Real Her told all her friends “that isn’t me, don’t accept”. Same here: I have never asked anyone to be my FB friend, never, not once, I may accept but I do not ask, so if anyone gets a friend request from me, it’s fake, phony, a hacker, turn it down.
- But but but. Had enough, or let the fingers ramble about self-discipline in a police officer? Any cop has the right to shoot a man who’s struggling with him, fighting to get his gun, in the fight injuries him sufficient to go to hospital for treatment. But police officer training should instill the discipline to overcome the rush of adrenaline, fear, and anger if the man backs off. Any prospective cop who can’t pass that psychological drill of anger control shouldn’t wear a badge. A cool head is everything. But the mob rage, smashing, burning and looting in FergusonMo wasn’t justice, but reverse racism. But so is the media’s ongoing gasoline on the fire headline “police officer who shot unarmed black teen.” But was the kid going for the officer’s gun, or not? But arresting reporters “for trespassing” -- in McDonalds? But but but but My but. Anybody else’s buts?
- Stirs a quip from Cove School days. “Hey, is that your face? Nobody else’s but.” yuk yuk
- Had a second FB friend request yesterday. Stranger but looked harmless and with a couple of friends in common so accepted. Now I’m getting ads, feeds, and comments from some dance site. criminy. corblimey.
When all is said and done -- and it is -- not signing this one.
Anon... going off into the Friday.