I have perused the old posts and would like to keep them for prosperity's sake. What better place to store them: On Golden Pond. From August 9, 2004. It was posted from an Alan Smithee. For the uninformed Alan Smitheeis a director who's embarrassed by his movie and doesn't want his real name associated with it.
editor's note: The following post was found in Alan Smithee's archives yesterday. Seems the post was scheduled for this past Mother's Day. For what ever reason, it never saw the lite of day. Because most of you may not be around next M.D., the following "Lost in the Vault" post is submitted for your approval/perusal:
We will suspend, albeit temporarily, the scheduled post that was to make its debut tonite. It was a tossup between "Another Bedtime Story" or "Offline with Hoots 2." But because its Mother's Day, we will pay homage to all you mothers.
When we first arrive in this crazy world, most moms are there to nurture us. To scold us when we do bad and to praise us when we do good. My mom was no different. The following is an IM conversation we had earlier today. Because she lives many nautical miles from the pond, me and kitty and the family weren't able to make the voyage to visit. And here's hoping she won't mind me sharing this with the world, er, PIC world.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mom."
"Alan. Is that you? So good to hear from you! How are things in N'awlins?"
"Everybody's fine, mom. We've got a big pot of jambalaya simmering on the stove. Kitty's making crawfish pie and filet gumbo as we speak."
"How is Briggs? And how are things at H.W.?"
"Briggs sends his regards and H.W. is H.W. How are you?"
"I'm fine, son. How are the little whiskersnappers, Katlin and Charlie Jr.?"
"Katlin is at the mall spending money, as usual. Charlie is perusing the streets on his Harley. He just got a new tattoo.
"Fritz, your brother, called a few minutes ago. And sent me a lovely bouquet of flowers. He couldn't talk long-he was on his way to hear Michael Moore speak at the Haight. And then he was off to order Dennis Kucinich's audio tapes at Barnes/Noble."
"Still the ultra left winger, eh, Mom."
"I'm afraid so, Alan. Poor, Fritz. He hasn't been the same since he fell out of the window onto his head in our old garage apartment back in the day. Yes, those were simpler times. I see you're still trying to engage the identity of pictruandtru. Any luck?"
"Well, I've narrowed it down to Dale Brown or Clyde the Glide Malmberg."
"I always thought he was Stromile Swift. You have become a bit redundant. Didn't you use that one once before?"
"Mom, I can't keep up with all the challenges. Since Hoots has vacated the title of Mr. Archive, it makes my job a lot harder."
"I've noticed a lot of spelling and grammatical errors in your posts, lately. And, son, it's eminent domain, not imminent domain."
"Mom, you know I'm just a cafeteria manager who worked his way up from prep cook to manager at the enigmatic H.H and H.W."
"But me and your dad had such hi-hopes for you.
Communal living wasn't a fit for you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Mom. Even tho apologies are the "in" thing these days. Everything's fine cos we're jammin' at the Potpurri. But here's wishing you the happiest of Mother's Days. I love you!"
"I love you, son. And would you please reconsider a wardrobe change. I, er, the world can see your private, er, family jewels."
"It's all show biz, Mom. Happy Mother's Day. Farewell and adieu, your son, v.c.
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