good talk

Vlad has redoubled his obnoxious-efforts, hey, I'm not kidding.  What are you (American Readers) laughing about, you belong in jail.  When I was a little-boy, I had a real close friend who also went to St. Sebastian's, his father was an M.D., he lived a few houses up the street.  My Mother was always saying to my Father  ...Tommy Joe is a bad influence on Ed...  and I was scared I wouldn't be allowed to play with him.  His mother later recalled us as  ...the terrors of the neighborhood..., we weren't that bad, but I can think of a few things I'd like to undo, fortunately, I reformed.  But you people (I use the term loosely) are incorrigible, there is no hope.  When I was in 9th Grade at Paul W. Litchfield Jr. High (when Akron U was so good in basketball when my Father was there, Mr. Litchfield, the CEO of Goodyear Tire and Rubber (a town in Arizona is named for him), invited the team over to his mansion for a Poker-Party, my Dad won $l7, a windfall for a college-guy in the Depression, what, probably all the guys won a little), I had 2 good friends.  Scully dropped-dead about 6 years ago, the interesting-thing about him was, he had an extensive and very-good collection of antique-firearms (his Dad was a big in the rubber-industry), old flintlocks, had a 1854 Navy Colt .44, and Vaughn is also dead.  Bob was a good-athlete, he would talk to the most-popular girls, he had a presence.  He and his wife were in a car-accident around Jacksonville, Fla., she died the same day, Vaughn died 2 weeks later.  Both sort-of turned on me, and learning they were dead was no skin off my nose, but I wouldn't wish Bob's fate over some perceived-slight on anyone, you'd almost be better off not to have been born-at-all, daresay, it's a hard luck world