(Editor’s Note: At 6:30 a.m. this morning I received an email from the old man hisself saying that he’d written his column for the fourth Thursday, as usual, but when he tried to send it to me it vanished into that “cyber-stuff.” He promised he’d write it again and I’ve have it within an hour. That was six hours ago. Not wanting to put any pressure on my pal, I waited till noon and finally called. “Nope,” says the mountain man, “you ain’t gonna git nothin’. I tried sending it again, lost it, wrote it one more time, lost that, THE END.” “Well,” says I, “this could actually be for the best. For a long while now I’ve been thinking that one of these fourth Fridays, when something came up and you couldn’t deliver, I’d just slip one in for you, you know, make it sound jes like you.” “And what the hell would you write,” asks the old man? “I’m thinkin’ it would be one of those “amends” letters.” “How’s that,” he stutters? “You know, like they do in the various 12 step programs when you go around and ask people’s forgiveness. Like for all the stuff you’ve done to people.” “I’ll tell you what, brother, you write something like that, with my name on it, and the only forgiveness I’ll be askin’ is from the judge come sentencing day.” Nuff said. RC)
