This Is Kind of Sad, Folks

Somebody once opined that I seem too lively to be living in an Old Folks' Home, and she wondered why I am a shut-in. I been putting this off because the answer is pretty sad. And believe me, Ol' Hoss knows sadness. Like, one year the U.S. Citizens elect George W. Barney Rubble and the next year the St. Louis Cardinal Catholics elect Fred Flintstone. Stone Agers uniting. This is pretty sad.

But this is sadder than that. You see, my wife has a rare disease called Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP). Its cause is unknown and a cure is non-existent. PSP is an attack on motor skills. My wife cannot walk, and must have help rising and being seated. Her sense of balance is gone, and she has fallen frequently. She cannot dress herself. She cannot feed herself. Her eyesight is failing. But her heart is strong. She has never once said "Why me?".

I cried when I first drafted this piece. Which does nobody no good. I used to cry a lot, feeling so sorry for my wife, but I got some good advice from my buddy Lois Lane so I don't do that much anymore. So don't feel sorry for us. We're doing fine.

Shifting gears just a little, let me tell you that I detest bigots and religious nuts and pedophiles and rapists and the like. I can't stand People Who Know What's Best for You (see: religious nuts). None of those folks has a sense of humor. So that's how Hoss gets even, by exercising his funny bone. So let's do some more getting even:

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I have slowly been tellin' you all about me. Which, of course, is the most interesting stuff you will ever read on the Internet. I can't blame you for pinin' because I haven't got all "100 Things About Hoss" laid out where you can get at 'em. But I am just being kind to you. If I showed you all 100 all at once, you'd pass out from delight and probably get hit by a train. Here, though, is No.

22. When I was a newborn, my brother nicknamed me "Babe." I was Babe Maudlin until I got my first job as a reporter in Albany, Ore., when I decided I would be Gene (middle name is Eugene) Maudlin. So my boss tried to introduce me to the police chief, but HE HAD FORGOTTEN MY NAME! So I saved the situation. "Chief, glad to know you," I said. "I'm Babe Maudlin." Dunce caps all around.

23. In high school I starred (naturally) in two school plays. In one of them I sang:

"I am the ghost of Tutankhmun,
"And I'll haunt your vampire woman,
"Everywhere she goes.
"She's a modernized Egyptian,
"I can tell by old inscriptions,"
"I'm the man who knows."

Pretty sappy. I don't think I have any of the advertising posters left. I know you wanted one.

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Matey says:

The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with.