San Francisco, 1978: The answering service had expanded, driving me out of Apartment #8. Rosie and I moved up the hall to Apartment #5. I was working out, and staying thin.

Actually, I personally believe that riding the motorcycle, which is both very physical and kind of dangerous, kept me wide awake, and staying slim was pretty easy.

I saw a lot of women, too.

And then one day I had a wart on my nose.

When I was a kid, I’d got a wart on a finger. That was frozen, cut off, and stitched up. A few years later, another on a knuckle was treated with radiation, which made it very unhappy and it went away.

And now, when I was getting plenty of dates, there was a wart on my nose! Not like it was hidden away somewhere. Right there on my nose, as if scouting where I was headed for.

Not attractive, no.

I decided that I didn’t want a wart on my nose.

I decided to make the wart uncomfortable, so that it would go away. I decided that I wanted it to drop off my body.

Every day, in the morning and again in the evening, in the bathroom of Apartment #5, I stared at the wart in the mirror. I touched it with my finger, and said — with lots of intention — “I want you to extend out of my skin, turn into a ball, and fall off.”

Every day, morning and evening, I focussed as best I could.

In a couple of days, the skin around the wart changed shape. It began to protrude from the skin, and then, at the base, grew thinner. Finally, one day it just fell off.

My nose again proud and happy, I returned to my busy life.

I hate to be rude, but some visitors are just unwelcome, and that’s all there is to it.

November 19, 1620, Cape Cod: The Mayflower dropped anchor today, bringing our first settlers to this continent. Let’s all welcome them:

Yoohooo! Settlers! Ahoy, maties! Yoohoo!

The Fairmont Hotel, Dallas Texas, 1964: As perhaps you know, there is a rivalry of many years between the football teams of University of Texas in Austin (the Longhorns) and Oklahoma State University in Stillwater (the Oakies). It’s a big deal.

This year the teams were neck and neck, and the final game was held in Dallas. I drove down from Denton with my girlfriend Carolyn to spend the evening with Dr. Martin and his family for the big game.

The Fairmont Hotel is old and snooty, so that’s where they stayed. I’m lukewarm on sports, but I was looking forward to a great meal in the hotel restaurant.

We started down in the elevator.

Everyone in the elevator, honest Texans all, were all a-jabber with excitement about the game. The elevator kept stopping at floors, adding more people going down to the restaurants, looking forward to the game.

The elevator was growing packed. Folks became quieter.

The doors opened on floor three.

A very tall brunette, very stylish in a black and white dress and rather a large hat stood at the door. Pinned to her bodice was a cardboard sign.

It said, “To HELL with Texas.”

Nobody said a word, just soberly watched her. She seemed to shake herself slightly, then stepped into the elevator, and turned to face the door.

Just as the doors closed with a soft thump, from the rear of the car, a man spoke up in a friendly voice.

“Hiya, Oakie,” he said.

Will the United States ever have a balanced budget?

Never happen. That’s now how we operate. Here’s how it works …

A politician wants to get elected, so he promises stuff. Over time this tends to make us somewhat socialist, because he’s got to promise the stuff to somebody, and in appealing to voters, most of them want free stuff, so over time politicians promise free stuff for people, making us more socialist.

The politician gets elected, and in order to stay around for the second show, he attempts to give some of the stuff he promised to the people he promised it to. Whenever he is successful at giving some stuff to these people, it’s got to be paid for.

Taxes pay for the stuff the politician has promised and in fact delivered. Since taxes aren’t fun, then it’s not long before some politician, needing to promise stuff, promises to lower the taxes.

If the politician gets elected, in order to stay around for the second show, he may attempt to give the lower taxes as he promised. If he’s successful, now the lower taxes don’t pay for all the free stuff that’s now being delivered.

And the cycle goes on and on. The free stuff being given to some people, and the lowered tax rates being given to some people are in endless conflict, and the budget will never be balanced. We will always be a debtor nation, as collectively stupid as the fellow who’s paying his rent on credit cards.

Why are we a nation of credit junkies? It’s a consequence of our system. Our system relies upon a promise against the future. We are always borrowing from the future to get free stuff now. Sounds like a credit card. Looks like a credit card. I say it’s a credit card!

Of course, the gubbament has another trick up its sleeve. It prints more money. Who gets the money it prints? I haven’t got any. Have you? No, I think the gubbament uses the money it prints to pay for free stuff for some people.

In a company issuing stock, if the company issues more stock, then the shares you’re holding have got to be worth less. So it is with the gubbament. When they print more money, which *they* use, then the money you’re holding is worth less.

In this way, the gubbament can tax *more* without appearing to do so. They don’t need to *take* your dollars; your dollars just became worth less. That’s called inflation. It’s probably like blowing up one of those girly dolls.

And on and on it goes. Kinda funny, innit?

Greenwich Royal Observatory, November 17, 1882: The Royal Astronomer witnessed an Unidentified Flying Object today and described it as a “strange celestial visitor — a circular object glowing green”. Shades of Sir Ernest Glitch!

London, November 17, 1988: The original manuscript of the classic novel, The Trial (1925), by Franz Kafka, sold today at Sotheby’s for 1 million, a world record for a modern literary text. Kafka had died from tuberculosis in 1924, having published almost nothing in his lifetime. He wrote most of these stories and novels while holding down a day job at the post office.

Although many literary critics have found deep allegorical meaning in these works, the rumor is that Franz and his brother used to read them aloud, and fall about on the floor, laughing. We are quite possibly indebted to Franz Kafka for the handy abbreviation “ROFLMAO”, which means “Rolling On Floor, Laughing My A** Off.” Thank you, Franz.