Archive for the ‘Andy Griffith’ Category
Early this morning I was reading the updates of my three favorite Bloggers, @RedheadWriting, @TheBloggess and @audymoo. Those of you who are not familiar with Twitter may not recognize the purpose of the @ in front of their Twames, but that’s where I found them (Mom, if you’re reading this, sorry for the profanity you’ll eventually encounter). I’ve mentioned to other Tweeters to follow these three at various times. In my humble opinion they are incredible writers; funny, insightful and their styles just tickle me.
Now, the purpose of this post is not to promote Twitter, nor is it to kiss the ladies’ asses or anything like that. I want to make them known to anyone reading my stuff, because I have become a devoted follower of their tweets. When I’m on Twitter and I see something pop up from them, I feel kind of bubbly. I know a good snicker is coming, if the first tweet didn’t already do it (which invariably it does). What inspired me this morning was a new post by The Redhead citing Andy of Mayberry, one of my favorite shows during my younger days and well known to all Boomers.
My dream is to freak people out with pseudo-Tourette’s outbursts just to see their reactions. Once I’m that guy people will accept it and just think it’s because I’m that guy. I want to still be cognizant at that point so I can enjoy the ramblings, while people allow me to go on without any threat of repercussions.
Sitting on a park bench, feeding pigeons would not be enough. The birds would be cute, provided they’re not crapping on my lap, but feeding them is not the point. I want to be there so I can scream and make obscene gestures and get away with it. Who’s going to punch-out a crabby old man? They won’t arrest me. I’ll just feign some kind of illness when they grab me and ask me to move along. I’ll fall to the ground writhing and make them think I’m hurt, so they feel sorry for me. Who knows, they might even give me money to shut the hell up. I can use the cash (since I’ll be on a fixed income) for more feed and perhaps a snort or two to keep the mumbling going.
Now, I don’t have that many years left before my “Glory Days.” I’m preparing my dialogue by tweeting on Twitter. The more wrinkles I develop, the nastier I’ll look. Seeing the surprise (and maybe a little fear) in the eyes of the recipients of my diatribes will be a hoot. Or should that be “tweet?”
I’ll let you know where I plant my ass when the day comes. The possible locations are numerous; any shopping mall, park bench, bus stop, outside a liquor store, inside a museum and of course a porch swing. Stop by and enjoy the show.
Bake My Fish
P. S. – The pathetic thing about this whole idea is I really want to do it.