Doc, I've felt for sometime that the millenium bug got to your memory chip a little early. The first time I saw you it was in New Orleans, not Oklahoma City.

Remember? You were in that spangled pair of purple Lederhosen(more commonly known as yodelling shorts), tapdancing for nickels while you balanced a spinning bicycle tire on the point of your propellor beenie cap and simultaneously juggled three old beat up Stinger metal detectors. (As I recall, the only bizarre thing about your outfit was that you wore two green plastic gold pans for shoes.)

For three days you'd been dancing nonstop, the Stingers had given out continuous positive nugget readings--which all turned out to be false, it was just that old metal plate in your head--and you hadn't made a nickel.

My wife and I felt sorry for you and invited you to accompany us to Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville for a sandwich, as you'd wasted away to almost nothing--you couldn't even talk anymore, or so we thought. You managed to choke out the words, "Mother's, I want to go to Mother's--the sandwiches, drinks, and service are much better there, and the menu is really much more appealing and vastly more fascinating. Did you know that the pirate Jean Lafitte . . ." A scant four hours later you finished your riveting dialogue and we headed to the restaurant.

So, we went to Mother's but you insisted on tap dancing all the way there and you kept the bike tire on your head spinning every step of the way, and the Stingers a flying(that biker you hit in the side of the head with the metal detectors took a dim view of your juggling talents, and wrapped all three around that steel light pole, and now it's been made into a shrine and worshipped as a great work of art by all the artsy types.)

But the fact that you lived until we got you to the restaurant, even after you took that direct lightning strike right through the spinnning bike spokes on your head, and watched in dazzled awe as the blue lightning bolts coursed through your twitching body and blew the metal taps right off the toes of your dancing shoes, that's when I knew you had real talent Doc. I knew you were a cut above the rest of the street performers.

It was then that I invited you to visit us in our snow cave the next time you made it to Canada. Imagine my distress when I found out that you had secretly slipped across the border and visited your favorite singer Celine Dionne and hadn't even bothered to stop by for the perrier popsicle I'd promised you!

There. Now I feel better, and you know why I snubbed you during my recent trip to Vegas.

Later,

Lanny in AB

• Oh yeah! Now I remember! Well who the hell was that in Oklahoma City? n/t Greg Lousignont, PhD 00:16:31 4/15/99 (0)
• Re: Lanny!! You are on my list BIG TIME!Millenium bug affecting your memory? Digger Bob 19:26:50 4/14/99 (0)