HLS Letters

My Cutting-Edge Computer

  • December 4, 1994

HLS - The Letters Of Harvey L. Slatin

December 4, 1994

their,
Hey, they’re, Udo!–
there,

My cutting-edge computer may be just days away.

I was preparing my den to accommodate the computer when Reality intervened.  Our oldest granddaughter’s finance is a medic at a nearby base, and his work shifts vary.  Mary deducted that when he was not on duty, he could be performing useful tasks around our house (for a consideration).  Tasks like repairing the fence, cleaning the rain gutters, re-hanging the yard gate, etc.  He agreed.  He’s a good handyman, but he doesn’t have any tools.  So I had to provide the tools and discuss each task objective.  I also had to assist him with some of the heavier assignments.  This derailed the den cleaning for about ten days.  I am now ready to resume.  A breakthrough impends.  Stand by.  The presses will roll at any time.

Hard to believe you haven’t had snow.  Not only are we ahead of rainfall average, but it’s been raining hard since about eleven Friday night (December 2nd).  Our pool went up at least an inch in eighteen hours.  The Sierras are groaning under the early snowpack.  Travelers are warned to stay out of the mountain passes.  Cougars come down to prowl the streets for food.  Hunters prowl the streets for cougars.  Save-The-Wild-Animals groups prowl the streets for hunters.  Cougars eat the Save-The-Wild-Animals groups.  The balance of nature is preserved.  This has it been since Time immemorial here at the last stop on the Pony Express, and will ne’er be otherwise.  That is my pledge to The American People.

Cuomo is reported to have mumbled to a reporter, “I thought Udo was my goomba, but look what happened.”  If you weren’t so busy worrying about the lack of snow, you could send him a collect telegram to set the record straight.  Or have Mrs. Rizzo give him a collect call.

“Inky” Hive has been running a non-stop feature on forest fires for the last two weeks, to strike fear into the hearts of those who might not have read the same stuff months ago in other papers.  He was so shaken by our heavy rain that he threw himself out of a window at The Bee.  He forgot that he was on the first floor at the time.  He ended up in a rosebush and got soaked in the downpour.  His scratches were treated by a loyal staff.  The forest-fire series ended that day.

Regards to Anne and Thomas, and the gang at Osterhout’s tavern.  Snow is on the way (from here).

Fred C. Dobbs

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