The Dick Summer Connection

I’m leaving the New Year’s podcast up for another week. Lots of folks said they felt good about it.

 On the subject of the beginning of another new year, a group of unpleasant but very smart ancient people called the Mayans said we shouldn’t make any important appointments for 2012.  When us Louie-Louie Generation folks were in our pimple stage, if somebody ran around saying “The End Is Coming,” we giggled as we pinned a sign on the back of his shirt saying “Gone Crazy, Back Soon.”  But since the recent discovery known as “Blockbuster movies,” our society has come to respect such ancient warnings for the positive effect they can have on selling popcorn.

 But hey, what if they were right.  Just think…we’d never have to pay income tax again after this April, global warming wouldn’t get a chance to turn Arizona into oceanfront property, and campaign speeches would be history.

 So seriously…what would we, the members of the Louie-Louie Generation, do differently if we knew we had only one more year to mess up life?  Would we get holier, or naughtier?

 I think I’d cut loose.  How about you?  Please let me know.  You can add a comment at the bottom of this blog, or send me an e-mail at .  I think I’d have as much fun as I could…without hurting people.  I’d grab a handful of condom boxes at the drug store and sneaky slip them into the shopping carts of everybody who looks uptight.  Then I’d go over to the nearest security camera, look up at it and smile, and do something with my finger that you’re only supposed to do using a Kleenex.

 Actually, if I didn’t have to worry about anything after 2010, it would be easy to make some of the big decisions I’ve been afraid to make.  And some of those decisions would be kind of selfish, I guess.  Not proud of that, but it’s true.  For example…I’d retire. And I’d spend every last cent we have.  The last check I’d write on December 31 would bounce…if there were any place for it to bounce to.  I’d put my Lady Wonder Wench into our little airplane and fly low and slow all over this beautiful country…and suck it all in.  We’d stop in Nashville, Memphis, and New Orleans for the music.  We’d walk together in the quiet of the ancient California forest called Muir Woods…and make love there.  In fact, every night and a significant number of days…we’d make all the love we didn’t make before we met.  I’d sit down and record one more Lovin Touch/Bedtime Stories album.

 I’d hug more, and laugh more, and kiss and touch, and even cry as much as I possibly could.  I’d pick up my old tenor sax again…and practice “Harlem Nocturne” till I got it right.  I’d find something nice to say to every waitress in every restaurant.  I’d go back to Coney Island and swim in the surf at Bay 22 where I was a lifeguard so long ago.  I’d spend one whole night lying on the grass watching a full moon sail all the way across the sky.  I’d walk into a fitting room at a clothing store, shut the door…wait a while…and holler “Hey, there’s no toilet paper in here.”

I guess that leaves me with just two questions 1-    Why don’t I do these things?  What am I waiting for? … and

2-    What would you do?

 By the way, I think one of the reasons those ancient Mayans were so unpleasant was that their priests kept sacrificing virgins…which is the sort of waste that after a while is going to get any bunch of guys in the tribe a little testy.

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