Good of The Buckaroo to cut us a break this month — no rules. He cuts me a break every month by allowing — nay, encouraging — me to indulge this mythmaking exercise. Thanks again, Buck. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Can tell you that as I write I keep you firmly…

So the way this works is you slip this GM Key to Greater Value into this chrome slot here to the right of the steering column, then you turn it so it’s exactly straight up and down and the dashboard lights, needles, and gauges are alive and talking to you. Then you push the clutch…

Sunbendsgoldacrossoldtoes.

Six bells and all is well.

Ghosts. I absolutely believe in the One interconnected and intraconnected Spirit animating the Universe, and I do call that Spirit God and believe It to be sexually ambiguous and autonomous and all-knowing and self-abnegating: humble yet proud; meek yet all-powerful. Nothing to anybody. Something to everybody. Everything to us all. Who wouldn’t believe in ghosts?…

If you get da kala, Dolly, I get da kine.

Bamboo Shoots, stems, leaves, stalks, groves.

“Would this be one of those times?” she asks. Seriously, I think. Coyly? A bit. Just the right amount, I surmise. But what do I know? “Could be,” I reply. “Will you know . . .? I mean when will you know?” “As soon as we get inside one of these historic abodes and have…

So I’m goin’ down the road feelin’ bad, Lord, goin’ down that road really not knowin’ how I’m feelin’. I mean, look, who’m I kiddin’? Me? Am I kiddin’ me? Or should that be, “Am I kiddin’ I?” That depends, I guess, on whether the terminal pronoun is a direct object, in which case it…

Rudy knows people, and, because he knows people, Rudy loves birds. It is not enough to say that he likes, admires, envies, and adores all birds — he LOVES them, wants to marry them, wants to BE them. Most especially, he wants to join the lyrical thrush family, the robins he admired back then, the…