Conversation With a Friend

It’s been tough to get going today.  Started a post, didn’t like it.  It’s been shelved, till later. What would Floyd have to say?  If I know him as well as I think I do–something like this.  “If you have something to say–say it!  If you don’t have anything to say–then keep your trap shut!”  Maybe this little talk from 2015 will do me some good.


“There seems to be a general decline in the ‘effimacaceousness’ of this blog,” Floyd observed–stroking his chin.

“How you figure?”  I answered his question with a question.

“He who answers a question with a question is a fool,”  Floyd philosophized.

“Will you get to the point and knock off the pseudo-intellectual shtick.”

“You’re first and foremost an imaginary character that exists only in my mind.  If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Did I hurt your feelings?  Don’t get your shorts in a bunch.  Just listen.

Floyd was attired for summer–bib overalls and slouchy railroad engineer’s cap.  At least, this time he had on a t-shirt.

Customary brown chewing tobacco spittle stained the corners of his mouth.  He expounded homespun philosophy with one foot on the front bumper of his light blue Ford pickup.

“All I was trying to say–is you need to lighten things up a bit,” Floyd answered.  “Most people get #$%@^& tired of hearing the same negative, mopey )*%@%^* day after day.  I failed to mention that Floyd’s vocabulary would make longshoremen blush.

“I’m glad to see you turned out smarter than your buddy Larry.  He’s purt near broke with three ex-wives.  Hasn’t got a pot to *&$% in.  He should have had enough *&^#$@^! sense to quit after wife number two.”

I hadn’t thought about Floyd for a long time.  Something about unshaven, sweaty men in bibs I’d prefer to avoid–as a general rule.  He was a memorable character.  If one looked past the disheveled, gruff exterior–he always gave good advice.


Dear Occupant

Step away

From the nostalgia posts

And no one will get hurt!

Said my conscience

Try something different

Dear Occupant

Was as personal

As this conversation

With my conscience

Was going to get

Arguing with one’s conscience

Never worked before

If I were lucky, a truce

Would be worked out

Those were pitiful

Attempts at humor

Remember humor?

What about just a few more

Slipped in–now and then?

Don’t overdo it!

Here’s what always works

What always worked?

What was sure fire?

Self-deprecating humor

That’s what

Knowing you

You’ll probably

Overdo that, too

Subtle Innuendos

What did it mean to dream about found money?  Angry Rorschach blobs?

That was Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta’ Love,” by the Hollyridge Strings.  More easy listening favorites after news, sports, and weather.

This is Nick Bumpus, your host for “Mellow in the Morning.” Coming up–“You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,” “What’s Love Got To Do With It?,” “Love Can Make You Happy,” “Love Stinks.”  Don’t go away–join me after the break–won’t you?

What this all means, is today I’m not loving this blogging thing so much.  Ideas are not flowing freely–not that they ever did, anyway.  I’ve enjoyed reading and commenting on other posts about as much as anything.

It’s Only Thursday

It’s not the first time in a long time that blog traffic has been down.  More traffic passes down my country road at midnight, than there’s been here lately.

Can you tell I’ve been reading the spam that comes across my web page?  Ad after ad for things to buy I already have or don’t need.

People are fickle, and if I haven’t caught their attention in the first five seconds–the opportunity was wasted.  There’s a news flash.

I refuse to humiliate myself for the entertainment of others–although that might gain some readers.

Watching cat videos for the last six minutes is as low as I care to go.  Was that humiliating enough for you?