"I hated Westerns," said the prolific Brazilian pulp-fiction writer R.F. Luchetti. That's why, he said, "I only ended up writing 60 of them." Allegedly, Mr. Luchetti has written 1,547 books over a very long career. Perhaps, one day, I will write one Western, although the best predictor of future behavior, is past behavior, so I wouldn't hold my breath.
I Have Seen The Future And It's Metastasizing
Speaking of holding one's breath, the word I am getting very tired of hearing on an almost daily basis is, "Metastasis," or metastatic disease: the spread of a cancer or disease from one organ or part to another not directly connected with it. At least three close friends have it, or had it.
This Saturday is the memorial service for my best friend, Charlie Waters which will be held at the Methodist Church in Kingman. Charlie died a week ago, Wednesday, of stage four lung cancer. I have debated all week whether I can say anything at the ceremony. Someone, I believe it was Dan The Man, said, "just tell a funny story." Well, I've tried a couple times, speaking aloud some of my thoughts and I can't do it without breaking up. Just too hard.
Charles Waters (AKA Charles Juarez Way) as senior class president of Mohave County Union High School, 1964-65
I have a book signing coming up at Changing Hands in PHoenix on November 1:
Here's the Changing Hands plug for the event.
I'm also scrambling to promote the Zany Zonie show featuring 34 of my editorial cartoons from the 1970s and 80s. Lots of tooting my own horn, something Charlie sometimes chided me about. Mostly he was totally supporting, but sometimes he couldn't help but, well, tell me the truth, which I saw in a metaphorical way this morning:
A self-obsessed bird pecks at his own image in the glass block on the south side of our house (i.e. our bathroom).
The little idiot lands on the ledge and sees himself and then pecks at himself, over and over.
Rather than get on with his life, Mr. Red beak keeps pecking at his own image.
I have tried to scare him off, but he flies right back and pecks and pecks and pecks. . .
Let's see, maybe if I walked over a couple inches and pecked there I'd get different results.
This goes on for a half hour. . .and longer. . .when I left the house 45 minutes later, I could still hear him pecking.
Maybe this time it will be different?
"One indication of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."
—Old Vaquero Saying