Baby, I Need Your Loving

"Doot Doo Doo Wah Shoobie Doobie" Johnny Rivers - The Poor Side Of Town

The Cold Northern Coast

It is Christmas in our new house.  In a classic pose, Tango snoozes in front of the fireplace with a new rawhide bone twice his length. That was a gift from Ben Mason and Lisa Mason, who put off getting a dog until their baby is born.

Eve is sitting on a corner of the couch, knitting a pair of booties...colored blue. That's right, we were told that we are having a boy. I think Eve is secretly a little disappointed because I know she said it felt like a girl.

I have a lot to be thankful for this year, and as I take stock of it all, I'm glad I am alive to get to this point.

More than once this year I had high velocity lead flying my way.  We had our prior home shot up by three gentlemen from Afghanistan; at least their cover at The National Security Agency was blown. They hated Americans but loved being in America.

There were a lot of bullets in that encounter. Enough for me to call the damage to my trailer a total loss, causing me to buy a new one.

We were the envy of the whole trailer park. We learned that getting the home shot up by terrorists was covered by our insurance policy.

Here's some unsolicited advice that may or may not apply to your mobile home insurance policy: please read the fine print.  

If you live in a floodplain, a place that sprouts tornadoes frequently, or in Hurricane Alley, keep an eye on the weather.

If you are not covered for flood, tornado, or hurricane damage, you could pepper your home before the weather event.

Just remember the AK-47 is the preferred weapon of terrorists worldwide. Their distinct shell casings and spent rounds leave clues.

The American Standard AR-15, the gun used in most American trailer parks during cigarette and beer disputes, won't help your claim.

Other things I learned this year. Don't go birdwatching in areas protected by Spetsnaz (Russian) operators. They are proficient, well-trained, and ready to kill.

When I think of Spetsnaz Operators, I think of a quote from the very gentle and caring Saint Mother Theresa Of Calcutta, who said about the Spetsnaz, "Fuck Them If They Can't Take A Joke, Just Fucking Kill Them."

I also learned something else from the Russians. If you go to a convention in Barcelona sponsored by a Russian company, you "must buy your own whores" The company will reimburse you for food expenses, hotels, and travel, but if you want a little action in your room, you have to pay for that yourself.

I still smile when I think of my old boss at one of the Russian President's companies, Anatoly. That guy made me laugh, and I hope he's okay.

This year, I dealt with the CCCP, The FSB, The FBI, the SAG (Screen Actors Guild), and The G.S.A. (Girl Scouts Of America) when I bought some Samoans for Tango and me outside of Market Basket.

Early in the year, I tangled with a dying man who only wanted to kill a beloved American T.V. Star.

Natalie Freaking Leuze, the woman on "The Poster," is now a family friend.

On a somber note, was the murder/suicide of Conrad and Rita Neville caused by the high cost of renting? It turns out their son was trying to push his father out of the nest so he could move into the family home with his mother and live rent-free. The whole thing was a family mess.

Then there was The Mixtape Killer, who is why I may never bowl again.

I survived all of that this year and at a profit.

Government work, especially, pays off.

I'm thankful to my friends, Tango The Wonder Pooch, Ben Mason, Lisa Tanaka Mason, Wallace Hughes, Natalie Leuze, my favorite bartender, Chachi Singer, and fellow Marine Ron Strier. I am blessed.

I'm thankful for Johnny Rivers's music, coffee, and donuts from, you know, where, but most of all, I am grateful for Eve, who has calmed me and made me more of a thinker. (You saw my Mother Theresa Quote, Right?) She's an authentic Mexican Food Partner with a loving spirit and a great sense of humor, and in most cases, she is right.  

We still have a few discussions that will be tabled soon, and I will "respectfully disagree."

I need to tangle where and when I'm needed.

Resolution...I need to improve my kidney punches and elbow strikes.

I don't know Baby Dunkachino yet, but I am sure he will understand in the future whether I am still around or not.

I dropped and kicked my sidearm away because I wanted to test myself. I "fucked around and found out." 

The Mixtape Killer kicked my ass, and Wallace Hughes saved me. If Wally hadn't arrived I would not be sipping a Dunks near the fire.

I owe him again.

A Little Help From My Friends is good enough for Ringo Starr and is good enough for me.

There is no wondering there; The Mixtape Killer whupped me. There is no lingering question.

I won't back down—good enough for Tom Petty, Good enough for me.

Merry Christmas from me, Eve, Tango and Baby Dunkachino! "Hoo-Rah"