There is no great genius without some touch of madness. – Seneca
And some great madness may be touched with genius. Enigma cloaked by conundrum.
So I get a call. Somebody found out where I am hiding and wants my sage advice. Somebody must be fucking desperate.
The shit hit the ventilation system and when the air cleared, he ended up in charge. Way over his head.
And he’s heard I am a genius. I tell him he’s heard right. The genius part is, he heard it from me.
So, I tell him, seems these opportunities are best concluded in the quiet of a small dark bar in the middle of the afternoon.
Over drinks. Probably a couple of beers.
That’s how I used to meet with the Chief of Police. Hope I’m the only one who thinks I am beginning to sound like an old pervert.
Used to write anti-drug speeches while completely stoned out of my mind. They say, write what you know, right? Learned that in English Composition.
But that’s a trick, see, ’cause I wrote about all the different ways I was thinking of how I could seduce my buddy Billy’s little sister with the big bonkers.
There was no way really.
The other buddy Billy’s sister with the big bazoomz was older. Meanwhile, some chaste censors worked overtime at a small Methodist liberal arts college in Western Pennsylvania in the Fall of 1964. For gosh sake’s, don’t actually tell us how a eighteen-year-old male spent ‘My Summer Vacation.’
Maybe if I turn this into a blog. Maybe mention how I always suggest something from Rogue Brewery – there is life after Nike – maybe they’ll send me a free case of Santa’s Private Reserve or Shakespeare Oatmeal or… dare I even think it… the Voodoo Doughnut Chocolate Peanut Butter & Banana Ale.
Tell me that last brew don’t sound like the perfect food in a bottle. I call BULLSHIT on coconut milk. Something like that.
Don’t know what got into me for a second. Been on the wagon for a while, okay, three days, and the wagon is headed for the ditch.
Sometimes my mind wanders. But I can get it together for a couple of hours mid-afternoon. For a couple of beers.
Which is all I can handle away from the house. Love my driver’s license.
That’s what I told the Chief. That was my advice. Do unto others as they are trying to do to you and do it first. Do it hard.
I am confident this is solid counsel. And I don’t even charge cash money for such wisdom.
A couple of beers and a four-figure gift card, I’m good.