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 You have to know Bert really well before he’ll
share his secret with you, but if he does, it’s as though he’s
revealed the reason for life and sunshine and the main reason our
dogs think we’re smart.
Oh, Bert gets down in the dumps just like the rest of us, but he has
discovered a way to jerk himself out of the bar ditch by his own
belt loops, and he finally broke down and explained how he could
remain so cheerful during a year and a half of basic house arrest
during the pandemic.
He looked up from his coffee and whispered, “mail order madness.”
What?
“What you do is buy stupid stuff. Cheap stuff. Maybe even stuff
you’ll never use, but maybe it’s a pleasant color, or lead you to
daydreams where you become dang near adequate.”
“For example?” asked Doc.
“Okay,” Bert said, “ask yourself this … what’s the very best part of
ordering something through the mail?”
Our mouths still hung open.
“Anticipation,” Bert said. “I love it. You can do it with a
computer, or just send off for a catalog. The simplest way to get
anticipation kinda mail is to get those catalogues. List your
address and name, of course, but it doesn’t hurt to add the title
‘Purchasing Coordinator’ below your name. [to top of second
column] |
“Then you add a note telling the
catalog folks not to give your name out to anyone else or little old
ladies will pull out their whiskers, one at a time. It doesn’t hurt
to add that the chairman of the board mustn’t find out what has been
ordered. Then be sure the item you order is really cheap and makes
no earthly sense at all. Hey, why waste money? Think porcelain frog
soap dish here.
“This will immediately start a flood of catalogs coming your way.
You have now broken once and for all the evil shadow of boredom.
Besides, you know you’ve secretly wanted a porcelain frog soap dish
anyway.”
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Pick up “Home Country: Drama, dreams and laughter from the American
heartland” www.lpdpress.com
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