Hello, there, folks and welcome to another round of “Dear Mike Redmond” in which I answer, or pretend to answer, or in some cases completely avoid answering in favor of making a joke, actual questions from people purporting to be readers.
Let’s dip into the ol’ electronic mailbag, shall we?
Did you ever get your closet reorganized?
Yes, I did. I finally got up the nerve to take all my fat man clothes to the donation center for resale. It was quite a truckload, too. Now my old suits and sports coats, all lovingly crafted by Omar the Tentmaker, are being used to house families in the desert, or serve new lives as hot-air balloons.
Were you really as big as you said?
Of course not. Do you think I’d tell the truth about something like that? I was bigger. And I still have nightmares that I’m going to wake up one morning and find I’ve gained back all that weight while I slept. It is for this reason alone that I never eat doughnuts after 8 p.m. Cheese crackers, perhaps, but never doughnuts.
I remember when you used to write about your sister’s kids, Deniece and Denephew.
So do I. And so do they. And so does their lawyer. Which is a big part of why I don’t do it anymore. That plus the fact that they’re adults now, or so they claim, and as such aren’t doing as much funny stuff as they did when they were kids. They grew up, in other words. Some nerve, huh?
Is your Mom still alive?
Not only is she still alive, she is still kicking butt and taking names. Unless, of course, you are a grandchild, in which case she is all sweetness and light, which I say is hypocrisy and she says is her prerogative as a little old lady.
What has she been up to lately?
Aside from watching basketball 24 hours a day, seven days a week? About the biggest news from Mom has to do with the arrival of a new cat, which she promptly named Bert. I asked her why. “Because he looks like a cat named Bert,” she answered. I accept that. Besides, I have no room to talk, seeing as how I named my cat Maynard.
How’s the new truck?
Still waiting to be purchased. I decided to squeeze one more year (at least) out of Black Jack, my old Ford pickup. I just hope Black Jack goes along with the program.
What is going on with (Large City Newspaper where I used to work)?
I have no idea. And from the look of things, neither do they.
I really liked your column about getting older.
Which one? Looking at the last few months’ output, that seems to be the recurring theme. I have written way too much on the subject. Of course, it could be due to the fact that I’m … wait for it … GETTING OLDER. You know what they say: Write what you know. Well, I know a receding hairline, sagging skin and being mildly confused by a world which is moving way more quickly than I think it should.
That’s it for now. Keep those electronic cards and letters coming, kids. It’s always nice to hear from people outside the asylum.