June 6: The Stick

‘Sup pups?

What a day! What a flippin’ day, pups. We start with the family unit eating breakfast. I like breakfast, because Dad gives me tiny remnants of bread-based products. You can’t beat that, now can you?

My fans came to visit me again this morning – I so love the adoring public. If any of you who elect to spend your precious free time reading my missives choose to visit me, I give you my solemn promise to adore you. Simple as that.

I rested all afternoon – had to stay inside a cool, air-conditioned coach while temperatures raced past eighty degrees. Do you understand, pups, that it seldom gets above eighty degrees at my house. Seventy-eight is the warmest we’ve ever recorded. Yes, ever. That’s what the ocean does to a summer day where I live. But in Wisconsin, well, it’s a whole different story.

BREAKING NEWS: Dad continues to eat his way across Wisconsin. Tonight – lake perch, cheese curds, and salad with french dressing. This overwhelming violation of portion control will likely stretch into three or four meals.

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People in Wisconsin seem to enjoy mayonnaise-based dipping sauces – have you noticed, pups?

After dinner, a veritable plethora of Mom & Dad’s friends, dear friends, old friends, friends who are not necessarily old, chose to visit us.

Oh, the fun we had! A ton of stories, pups. Meanwhile, I dazzled the throng by attempting to consume a large stick.

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Here’s the thing about these sticks. They are rich in fiber, and fortified with fire burns. In the past month, I’ve really taken a liking to eating dried wood.

Of course, when you are blessed to be around your dearest of friends (and to have a nearly unlimited assortment of dried wood to consume), you need to take time out and give thanks to the big guy up above. Which I did.

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I heard a lot of stories tonight. And as best I can tell, my Dad is a veritable bumble-doof. At least that’s what this person told me.

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I have a feeling that this person is the kind of instigator who is likely to “stir the pot”.

Did you know that Dad nearly fell off of a stage a couple of years ago and almost fell on top of the Postmaster General? It’s one of the many tales that were told on this spectacular summer evening. Some in attendance found the story to be delightfully funny.

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I laughed as well.

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I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, “Bert, you aren’t laughing, you are begging for a stick or for a hamburger or for a piece of lake perch.” Ok, you caught me. I was demanding access to that stick.

That stick was soooooo tempting, so exciting, so intoxicating. Nobody should ever try to take it away from me. Ever.

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On a night when old friends should have been the featured story, a simple fire poker, a simple stick, became the object of my desire. I have every possible modern luxury available to me, in the form of a modern recreational vehicle. Instead, a fiber-based cylinder of dried wood is what I crave. Imagine what tomorrow might bring?

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