Going Postal!

 I think that I speak for many when I say that most of us have at least ONE friend who clogs the email in-box with tons of "forwarded" messages.  My friend is a gentleman by the name of Mike.  Not his real name;  His real name is "SpikedMike@gmail.com."

I recently ran into Mike when he asked, as he always does, if I'd received a funny joke that he sent earlier in the week.  I informed him that I'd lost Internet service along with most public utilities, my lady friend, the remainder of my dignity, the ability to purchase groceries and my house due to an unforeseen financial setback.  Needing a good laugh though, I suggested that he could just tell me the joke in person before I head back to the homeless shelter.  Sadly, he couldn't seem to remember the joke.

Peppered in with the virtual stand-up comedy act that comprises my "in-box" are about 5-thousand discounted pizza offers from Papa John's.  This provides solid evidence that, according to the commercials, Papa is not ONLY in the house, he's apparently trying to crash my computer's hard drive.

Aside from everything else, I'm always happy to find several emails from Pontchartrain Press readers.  So, I figured that it's about time to kick the reader mail sack again. 

Here goes: 

From: Daniel, Effingham, Illinois

Hey Jim,

I saw a few of your things in one of the area weekly papers and also found you online.  Funny shit dude.  

Me and my girl are thinking bout' moving to New Orleans and I noticed that you live there.  Is the crime rate still a big problem there as much as we hear in the news?

From: Jim Patrick

What few of my "things" did you see in the local paper?  It wasn't nude photos was it?  I ask because, after an evening of being over-served at the pub last year, my lady friend talked me into being photographed wearing nothing but a pair of Doc Martins, a funny looking straw hat and a drunken smile.  We're no longer dating, so, now I live under a dark cloud of fear by not knowing the precise whereabouts of this stupid picture and that it will embarrassingly turn up without warning...sort of like Gary Busey.  

To answer your New Orleans crime rate question...NO!  We seem to have turned a positive corner and I'd say things are going extremely well here.  As a helpful suggestion, it's always a good idea to peek at a local newspaper for a demographic "snapshot" before making a move.  

I'll save you some time, as I've attached a headline from our local paper to get you started:

FIVE Murdered In Bloody Weekend Massacre

Police say NOLA toll rises to 187 so far this year

It's not ALL bad news Daniel so don't let that headline discourage your relocation avenues:

SAINTS WIN!!!

Last quarter offense saves the day!

LOCAL News:Car Dealer Donates New SUV To Struggling Gentilly Family.  Murdered Two Days Later In Apparent Home Invasion.  Death Toll Rises to 190

Health Brief: Brain Eating Amoeba Contaminates New Orleans Area Drinking Water System

 Daniel, I assure you that there are many fine, warm and cuddly things happening here--  Most of which take place inside luxury hotels which are guarded by a heavily armed security force.

By the way, since you're moving, will you be renting out your house in Effingham?  I've attached my phone number.

From: Sharri, Del Ray Beach, Florida

HOW do grocery store employees seem to have the exact location of every product memorized?  

From: Jim Patrick

Because they are all engaged in a fierce competition for the coveted title of "Employee Of The Month!"

I knew a guy, Kenny Etheridge, who worked at the local supermarket where he actually won this award once.  It also came with a package of "bone-in" pork chops AND a month of reserved, front-row parking!

Unfortunately for Kenny, such as it goes with numerous Powerball winners, the fame, perks and public notoriety eventually led to disappointment and setbacks.

 Kenny arrived to work one day, gliding into his shiny, much coveted parking space, when, halfway through his shift, a violent tornado touched down.  This triggered mass chaos and minor looting inside the supermarket.

Kenny didn't know what to do.  So, he reacted the way most people would have during an emergency situation...he took a smoke break and went to check on his car.

As he waded through a pile of unbelievably priced Betty Crocker Tuna Helper, Ken blankly stared toward the parking lot from a store front which was once shielded by magnificent ceiling to floor plate glass windows.  There, he noticed large glass shards firmly embedded into the heads of dead or critically injured customers.  But, he also spotted his car;  It was split in half by a 50-foot lamp post which had been toppled by the unforgiving wrath of Mother Nature.  

Thanks to Global Warming® and a general public who selfishly throws caution to the wind (so to speak) Al Gore© destroyed a grocery store...and Kenny's automobile.

In the coming days, Kenny's employment was terminated for his lack of compassion or assistance toward his fellow employees and customers during an emergency situation.  Now, finding himself jobless and without an automobile, Ken sank into the depths of a rock bottom abyss of self-pity and reckless behavior.  

His girlfriend eventually left him but his brief occupancy in the glorious spotlight which comes with being named "Employee Of The Month" DID reconnect him with his "Baby Momma." She invited him to appear on an episode of the great Maury Povich program where he was to participate in a paternity test.  

It's also worth noting that, during his television appearance, Kenny also learned that she'd been sleeping with his entire dart league team, including the lesbian.**  

**Note: Maury also administered paternity tests to members of the team, with the exception of the lesbian.  

With no success in determining the identity of the REAL father, Kenny's 3-year old child now wears a social badge with his OWN distinctive title...

"Bastard"

And, THAT'S why:  

I am an underachiever 
Will never throw darts OR eat Tuna Helper 
Why I refuse to allow people named Kenny to purchase Powerball tickets for me
And, why lesbians tend to dislike me  

From: Paul, Lexington, Kentucky

Jim...what's up?

MAN!  My live-in girlfriend has a 5 year old kid who ALWAYS hides my TV remote.  Every time I try to sit down to watch something I can almost NEVER find the damn remote!  What can I do to stop him from doin this?  His mom thinks I'm overreacting.

From: Jim Patrick

Your concern and frustrations are TOTALLY valid.  You might do what Miss Doris did when she babysat me while my parents were at work.  Miss Doris used to tell me that little boys and girls who touch things that don't belong to them are being disrespectful, which usually leads to very bad things.  Things such as daddy drinking a lot and beating mommy up on a regular basis.  

She'd also warn that bad boys and girls are sent to child slave camps (usually a shoe factory overseas) where they are forced to sleep in a warehouse, tied by their wrists from the ceiling, and forced to watch the slave-keepers behead and eat Big Bird.

It wasn't until years later that I learned that the 8-ounce drinking glass that Miss Doris always kept nearby wasn't water after all.  Anyway, her warnings worked for me and I turned out just fine.

From: Chad, Metairie, Louisiana

Hey dude...

Are YOU as excited as i am about the NFL season kickin' in again?  Anyway,  my girlfriend HATES it.  She always threatens me with NO sex!  Help!

From: Jim Patrick

This is my absolute favorite useless threat.

You should inform her that this threat carries no time parameters and then ask for specifics.  For instance, does the sex threat apply only to Sunday, Monday and Thursday's and do playoffs factor into this sexual abatement.  You might also point out to her that many women find Howie Long to be sexy so she should join you for the NFL Sunday Countdown program.  It might serve as an effective sexual turn-on for her.  

You should definitely inquire as to the boundaries of whether or not you might engage in sexual activity with another woman.

Sure, she'll threaten that your infidelity will result in NO sex EVER again and an eventual break-up.  This is the point in the conversation where you should assert:  "So, you're saying that I will need to secure a sexual partner(s) for an extended period of time...PAST the regular season?"

Good luck.  And, yes, I am excited about football season.  Mainly because we have an office pool as to whether we will make it through a season without a player being implicated in a homicide.

From: Kristin, Stone Mountain, Georgia

Many of my friends play kick-ball after work and keep trying to get me to join a league.  I'm not very athletic so I don't wanna embarrass myself.  Do you know much about adult league kick-ball?

From: Jim Patrick

Yes, and I take it that your friends are all raging alcoholics?

For those who do not know, adult kickball is the equivalent to that of a frat party...only no one skips his/her 9am sociology class.  Generally, no one gets raped either.  

If you're okay with consuming large amounts of alcohol while engaging in a sport, and you're not very good at bowling, then kickball is the game for you.  

Besides, from what I understand, in order to play kickball you simply need a window in your schedule, a strong liver and be okay with not remembering anything the following day.

From: Angela, Denver, Colorado

My boyfriend is soooo high maintenance.  He always wants to know where I am and leaves notes all the time.  Recently he left me a note that said "I love you...probably TOO much!"

From: Jim Patrick

Is your boyfriend, by chance, a big fan of Shakespearean tragedy?  Did he ever purposely allow himself to be bitten by an Asp, ingest a vile of poison or stab himself in the abdomen?  That's what I define as loving someone "too much."

I'll bet everything that I own that he camps out on your Facebook page all the time as well.  

This is precisely why I REFUSE to post my relationship status on Facebook.  At least not until they make available a status option which reads:

"In a relationship, it's complicated in that it's a murder/suicide pact."

Regards, 
Jim

And, finally, here's one from


Lindsay, Nashville, Tennessee

I notice in a lot of your writings that you goof on your childhood and relatives.  My family is crazy and I want to write bout' them but I don't think I can do it the way it would make sense to people.  I'm not a writer but think it would be a funny story.  Can you help??

I liked your article about the children's short stories btw.  
Linz

From: Jim Patrick

Linz, I'm not quite certain that I'm a writer either.  My school teachers and college professors vaguely hinted that writing might not be my strong point as evidenced in cryptic assessments that they'd regularly contribute to my student files:  

"Jim does NOT possess formative writing skills.  He's not a writer."

The only advice that I can offer is to write what you feel.  When sharing stories about your family that you find to be humorous, figure out how to make a connection with your audience.

For instance, I recently compiled notes on someone else's family, specifically a gruff old gentleman named Bill.  William didn't seem to care much for me or my humor; By many accounts, Bill was known to be grumpy but good at heart.  He reminded me a lot of my own father.

At long last, Bill pulled up a stool next to me where we enjoyed a long and thoughtful conversation.  He shared poignant memories of family, friends, alive and dead.  He also shared several hilarious anecdotes about himself and the detours he'd taken from the path he'd traveled for 78-years and, as I recall, he farted two or three times.   As he bought me a beer, Bill looked over and unassumingly asked:

"You didn't think I was this much fun to hang out with did ya?"  

I laughed.

This unexpected moment stirred feelings that I remember from when I was 8-years old when, after what seemed to be an eternity, me and my dad sat for hours on end atop a tranquil river bank with rod and reel firmly in hand.  FINALLY I felt a tug at the fishing line and snagged my first gigantic (4-ounce) Blue Gill.  Nonetheless, it felt like a rite of passage to me...revisited 24-years later, courtesy of an evening of atonement with a proud and, seemingly, grumpy old man.  Unlike my father, I didn't have to pick up strewn beer cans from the riverbank...me and Bill had a bartender.  

Hope this example helps Linz...Or, maybe you could just write about a drunk uncle or an aunt who goes crazy and shows up for Thanksgiving dinner...even though it's April....everyone seems to have one of those types in their family.  Whatever you choose, have fun writing about your folks but be prepared to never be invited to family reunions again.

With that, the in-box is a bit lighter and my stomach is a lot heavier.  I finally broke down and used one of the pizza offers.  Papa is, indeed, in tha' house!  Hollah!

copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2013