Hi, remember me?
Uh, you don’t? Okay, well, uh….
It’s me, Dave.
Has the really cute dog?
Yeah, it’s me.
Well, you’ve probably been wondering what has happened to me. I’m guessing you have formed a posse. What’s a “posse”? You apparently never watched Bonanza or Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. A “posse” is formed when the men of the town, who never seem to have jobs (or at least jobs with the requirement to, you know, stay around and work) jump on their horses and chase after someone. They are always formed at the spur of the moment (get it? “SPUR” of the moment? A little “western humor” for all of my cowboy readers out there) and by people who have the need to carry torches, even if it’s daytime. The “posse” may last for days on end and often involves “tracking”. What is “tracking”? It’s, uh, you know, where you, uh…”track” someone.
NO, this is not the kind of “track” I am referring to (sheesh, work with me here, people). I must admit, though, that there are “horses” on this kind of track. (A little more “western humor” for my cowboy readers out there. My (very complex and impressive) website tracking program has shown that I have a large contingent of cowboy readers out there, so excuse me as I cater to my cowboy readership. I cannot afford to lose them, as they’re used to a lot of bull poop.)
Anyway, posses (or is it “possies”? Could a cowboy please e-mail me and let me know?) are formed when someone goes missing or has robbed a bank. After my last article, I took my son’s piggy bank and went missing.
After almost one (friggin’) year, the posse never showed up.
HELLO? PEOPLE? Throw me a friggin’ bone here!
After these many months, and endless sneezing due to the dust bunnies in my downstairs closet, I finally have come out of hiding. I’m back.
Meanwhile, I’m sure the posse my friends have formed is still out there…somewhere. I think. I hope.
I’ve always been a “rough and tumble” kind of guy. For some reason, cowboys and outlaws have been my friends. I guess it’s just the rebel in me. I mean, come on, look at me. I’ve got “rebel” written all over me.
As such, it stands to reason why I’ve always run with the rough crowd. Mama was always worried about me. During my first stint in the slammer, I wrote a poem. Please try to get a feeling for the raw emotion and heartache:
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I’m easy come, easy go, Little high, little low,
Any way the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me, to me
Mama I just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh, Didn’t mean to make you cry,
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time
Goodbye, ev’rybody, I’ve got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooh, I don’t want to die,
I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright’ning me
(Galileo) Galileo (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico I’m just a poor boy and nobody loves me
He’s just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go (Let me go) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Perhaps now you understand. Perhaps now you can feel some of the pain that I felt, and why I reach out to my cowboy readers and understand why posses are formed to find me (altho the friends who formed said posse really suck at finding stuff). Yes, there is alot more to “Dave” than the dork you’ve come to know.
Yes, as you can see, there is a rebel side to me.
Recently I received an e-mail which really summarizes the loyal Earth to Dave! fan base which missed me so badly. Please allow me to share it with you:
From: Citibank Online <email@example.com>
Subject: Citibank Online Security Message
Deer Citibank Customer,
It has ben a long time since you have sined on to Citibank Online. Reecently you or somebody else make several login atempts and reach your daily atempt limit. As additional security measure your acess to Online Banking has is limited. This Web security measure does not afect your acess to fone banking or ATM banking.
Please sine on and verify your information here. You will be abil to atempt siging on to Citibank Online within 24 hours aftur you verify your information. (You do not have to change your Pasword at this time.)
Citibank Online Customer Service
These people were so concerned about my absence that they e-mailed me instructions for resetting all of my online banking information. They made it so easy, too. All I had to do was click the little blue here link, and I was able to input all of my personal financial information. What could be easier than that? Man, someone is a genius! I’m glad there are people like that in this world, because we geniuses need company.
I wonder if my posse had something to do with alerting my bank? The only question I have is “why Citibank?” I don’t even bank there. Oh well, I’m sure my posse can explain that, if they ever get back.
Meanwhile, I promise to keep the articles coming. (I was going to update them from my closet but someone unplugged the extension cord running across the floor and I couldn’t blow my cover).
To all you cowboy fans out there, thanks for sticking with me. I owe ya a debt of gratitude, pardner.
With my newfound freedom I have gotten a little more hitch in my giddyup, so expect more frequent writing on my part. I’m sure you’re all waiting with baited breath (that one is for my fishermen readers, who rank #2 behind the cowboys. I have a very far-reaching audience.)
To the rest of you, consider throwing a saddle in the car and mosey on out to the local stables. If you hang around long enough, you might just end up like me, forming your own posse. I’m not sure what we’re lookin’ fer, but we’re gonna find it (unlike my buddies who apparently couldn’t find their way out of a paper sack.) I guess we’ll go looking for the posse that is undoubtedly still looking for me…or, not.
See ya soon, pardner!