If Newman were ever to commit suicide, he would most assuredly hang himself. Of course he never would, since he lives in the moment (also, you can't chew a rope to pieces and then wrap it around your neck). Unless for that moment he lost all hope. Even then, that moment would end in a moment he would be on to chewing a bra strap (puppy see, puppy do). Plus the obvious - his relaxing life style. He's fed, housed, bathed, has no job, gets to spend lots of time alone reflecting, has clear direction as to how to behave so as not to be punished. Wait, this might also describe a prisoner at Guantanamo Bay. But we've never once flushed his toys down the toilet.
That strikes an idea in my brain. To teach the children manners and politeness at Mrs. Parks Nursery School, we could sing Down by Guantanamo Bay. I won't rhyme anything here for fear of retribution.
Anyway, he would hang himself because he is so used to extreme pressure around his neck. He must love it because when I walk him, I swear he thinks he's ploughing a field in 1800s Ontario. Must be from staring at all those fields as we drive to the cottage and he drags saliva and any number of strange foods and bra material all over the window.
My rotator cuff is killing me holding on to that leash. I have no idea what a rotator cuff is. Is it part of a dress shirt? I just know people tear them playing insane sports, like Rugby or Crokinole, and keep doctors in big houses.
Damn, I have to teach some brat, ah student, piano now. Sorry the first entry is a serious topic, but you should know I will not shy away from uncomfortable topics. I grew up on Phil Donahue. I will look you right in the screen and tell you the truth. I also watched the Three Stooges, so…
