Yeah I suppose kinda funny anecdotally (in a H&DB ironical kina way), but it’s just been too heavy a year to find laughter in this sordid sort of medicine, Reg. Go peops, but what? What I would find funnier is if Id Godsmack would appear giant in the sky above a few select idiotic capital buildings, having taken on the visage appearance of Howard Zinn, & set in to plucking out the f#ckth#mbs one by one, with a chuckle ..a chortle or a sigh and toss them half-hazard in a pile on the shoreline of some sea that has begun to die in their own almighty bleak (out of harms way) hands. & once the pile gets really, really, just-big-enough, and all that is left as leadership on each of these Lord o the Flies continents is student-educators & philosophizers & pugilists who hug after a grand fistfight & swordsmen who dig the history of the Katana far more than the bloodshed, and otherwise really smart conscientious & considerate ubercapable young men & women & elder statespersons of the kind ilk of hands-on artisanship & benign decency that just radiates that human glow of fearless compassion you see from time to time as it disarms you & leaves you awash in the knowing just how brilliant a living organism humanity truly is in the company of flora & fauna, then toss 'em into the sea to feed her Grace & begin the healing. & THEN ..we can pick up where we are now technologically, with sound concepts, & with clean energies & herbal oil mutual sensual massage in the early evenings after a favorite program for relaxation, & whatever gets YOU through the night, ..and choose to move forward logically, magnanimously; solve disagreements without greed (&/or ruthlessness) at the root. Yes, it is a Simpsons oversimplification of my frivolous little dream a little dream, but ey ..it’s no more farfetched than what we actually do now (I mean, if you really take a step back & ruminate the awe).

I’m a sissy-man, sure enough. & I’ll punch y’in the chin if you think it’ll help. Or take one upside m’own chin if you know good n dawgone well that it’s the medicine I need to torque my bean on straight. I mean, we have all known moments of human connectivity..for at least as long as a weekend in mixed company---sure, there’s occasional argument, it’s healthy/natural, but if friends usually things work-out and you end up chillin at a table playing makin bacon or the dice game or cookin the sauce or painting a mural or fixing the plumbing or raising an outbuilding or building a teepee or jammin on the instruments provided or suppin ale in the moonlight & ruminating tomorrows most fascinating project elements ..& such. So what? How many of us have to be aware of the nonsense and yet live with it daily to the detriment of ALL THAT WE HOLD DEAR before a cohesive movement other than the one I had this morning begins to fascinate our best labored intentions?? Just because f#ckth#mbs &their toady asshalves have somehow attained the floor in apparent perpetuity? Time to load up the stakes & spear-guns & winches, call James Woods, and go kill us some m#thaf#ckin vampires (all on the up-&-up-&-legal-like). What…thin ice ‘neath our feet?

Or at least just sup ale together & write another proggy folk song, ..but where: north o’London, SE Florida, Maryland, SW of NYC & vicinity, somewhere in Tennessee, WNebraska, NEOhio, LA, San Francisco, someplace central, I don’t know, where? Here on the dbis? There on your mountaintop watching the windmills turn…build a little makeshift ceremonial circle and drum, ..hum, …drum?

I’m just noodlin’ around, Reg. In between not near enough rewarding work & the duly daily protocol that keeps us two hangin’ on to possibility. & frankly I find so much of the bad shit so redundant anymore that it’s difficult for me to laugh. & I know that we must laugh..& get on with something …or … f#ck "or"

Maybe you could elaborate more on your somewhat slightly cryptic message ‘ere, Reggie? Ey?