My Nobel prize is in the mail.

The Coltmobile

My world has been turned upside down. Things are getting a little weird in the world.

The Nobel peace prize for Barack Obama? Hmmmm.

Did I miss something in the news about Iraq and Afghanistan? Must be.

This means I will be hearing from the Nobel committee in the Literature category. It could happen. I haven't had anything published but Barack has not made any peace so I guess my chances of hearing from the Nobel committee are quite good.

I suspect the Nobel committee will refer to my unpublished "Colt Brandisher" series.

Actually my unwritten and unpublished series. Untitled, I might add.

Perhaps I can tie up some loose ends today.

Did I mention anything about Candida Goldblatt? Well....She's good lookin!!!

The Title Thingee

Perhaps I could do something like the author Sue Grafton. A is for....whatever. B is forsomething. No? X is for what, Sue?

How about something like Lillian Jackson Braun series, The Cat who .....whatever! buried his feces, meowed all night, Farted...take your pick. No? (My cat does all these things.)

How about a series along the lines of John Sandford. His prey series. How aboutChurch Prey or Bird of Prey. No?

Wow, This is difficult. Martha Truman wrote about Murder at series...Murder at the White House. Murder at the FBI. I could go with Murder at the Outhouse, etc..No?

What if I used every state in the union. I would like to get sex in the title. How aboutPray for Sex in Alabama. I think I am getting close but the title sounds too "Baptist".

I think I am getting close.

Character description

Sometimes you can tell more about a character by the car he/she drives or some other gimmick. Do you remember Columbo? He had a nifty vehicle and a raincoat. A characters personal quirks. What do they drive? what do they drink? Eat? Those personal little touches that make him unique.

Perhaps I could have Colt drive a 1957 Citroen that is pulling a pop-up trailer. His Ex-wife got everything. Too quirky? perhaps I could have him dress strange. Maybe wear his boxer shorts on the outside. Nah! Why would he do that? Remember, If that trend starts, you heard it here first.

No, He is going to look like me/Clint Eastwood. That will make him quirky enough.

He will drive a 1957 Citroen. That is good. Perhaps I can give him a strange hobby for a guy. Maybe he could be a knitter. You know.....knit one, pearl two...whatever...No? How about Pinochle master? ...No, better yet. a scrabble master. He will go around muttering, " 192 points on the word antiqued, can you believe it?" over and over. This is from my own personal experience. 192 pts. on that word and I did mutter that for six months. It is mentioned reverent and hushed terms in our house. I'm the reverent one. My wife tells me she doesn't want to hear any more about it. That is where the hushed part comes into play. I probably should not have taken a picture of it and framed it.

Colt is a fussy eater. No pepsi and milk like Laverne and Shirley. He wants his Beer shaken not stirred. He doesn't like the taste of Martinis. He will not eat olives. His pancakes have to be square. They must be trimmed while cooking.

Quirky? Yeeaaahh!

I think this is going well. I should have enough for the Nobel committee. I believe I have positioned myself to be a top candidate now. I think I have positioned myself better than Barack did for the Nobel peace prize. I could be wrong......Nah!!!

My two cents (muttering and sputtering)

I must start by saying that I am an easy going person. At one time I was as calm as a Buddhist monk at a petting zoo. To be more truthful, I used to be an easy going person.

What happened? I am sure that the crankiness comes with age. Perhaps it comes with wisdom. Quite possibly medication. Maybe tight shoes. Possibly the guy driving behind us, texting, while driving up on the curb with his Hummer that has a dented bumper. (That happened this morning.)

At one time Andy Rooney was a wonderful, happy go lucky guy. He may have been a comedy writer early in his career. A joke teller, a raconteur, a delight to be around. Now he gets on television every week and tells people, " stop sending me all this crap. No, I will not clean my desk off. No, I will not do something with my eyebrows. Yes, I like my belt up to my nipples. Leave me alone!!!"

I have recently noticed that Clint Eastwood has been getting a little peevish in his movies. Hmmmm! After thinking about it for a minute, he has always been peevish.

In fact, he has probably done in more people than Rambo. The thing about Clint's movies is that they are filmed in the USA, so naturally the people were better armed in this country. Rambo only had to face AK47's in SE Asia. Clint had to face whatever the NRA said was legal, which was everything. (I often take my Bazooka and Uzi deer hunting.) When someone sends a few missiles at Clint's car, he gets annoyed. But his writers come up with some great lines when stuff like this happens. Not once did I hear Clint say"WTF? No, It's do you feel lucky, Punk?" or "Get off my lawn."

You just don't know what will set us old guys off. It is such a tricky balance. It could be the person in the theater who calls a friend and says, " guess where I am?" My answer to this person would be " in your own little bubble?" They wouldn't do that in church, would they? I can picture it now. "Could you hold still, Mr. Pope, so I can take your picture with my cell phone." In such a case, I can picture the pope slapping that person and it would be an acceptable response.

The world is just being overwhelmed by annoying people. You have your telemarketers that call at dinnertime. You have your annoying religious people who try to give you a copy of Watchtower magazine or tell you that they are at your door to save you from the Eternal fires of hell. I usually tell them "I am prepared" and then I spray them with a fire extinguisher. That is the only way to get them away from my door.

Then you go to the supermarket and when you check out, a cashier asks you if you want to donate to the "Save Governor Sanford from the Eternal fires of Hell". I asked "How will I know this won't go for plane fare to Argentina?" She could not give me a satisfactory answer. I did not donate. Then I go to the mall. There are people giving away free meals at these little kiosks in the mall. All you have to do is sign up to buy a timeshare after the meal. If you refuse, they sequester you until you sign. I had a friend who went to one of these "informational dinners". He was missing for 3 days. When they released him, his hair was totally white, but he is the proud owner of a timeshare in Haiti. He cries a lot. These are a few of the type of people that make me cranky.

Umm! Someone just pulled into my driveway. Hmm, They have Utah license tags. They are wearing black suit, black tie, white shirt, and sunglasses. Either it's the Blues Brothers or the Mormons. I better get the fire extinguisher ready.

The big Makeover

DON'T BE LIKE MIKEY!

Alas, I must confess, my hair is not really platinum blond. Perhaps it is really " getting gray". I hate to admit it.....so I won't.

My wife sees my hair completely different than I see my hair. I look into the mirror and I see "some" gray hair. She sees a guy with white hair with streaks of gray. I say there is some brown there. She says something about a river. Something like "the Nile is not only a river". What does that mean? Why do French people always pronounce "the" like "de".

Last spring I went to get a haircut at a barber school. I asked them to cut the gray out of my hair the best they could. They shaved my head. That should have been a hint.

This spring my wife suggested that it might be wise for me to go to the fitness Center and start working out. "Me?" I was mystified. I am in my 60's and in grape shape. My nasty rejoinder to her statement was, " I have the body of a 25 year old man, I'll have you know." Her answer was, " well, you better get it back to the mortician before he discovers it's missing."

I must confess that my body does have a few shortcomings. Or is it just in my head?

My wife says, "No, it's everywhere."

That wasn't what I was asking. I meant; is it mental?

At one time, my glasses were so thick and heavy that if I hadn't got the ultra thin lenses I would be wearing a neck brace just to hold my head up.

At one time I tried to grow a mustache and I ended up looking like Hitler. I also had my head shaved. I looked like Mussolini. I don't look good with the pre-1950 fascist nazi look. This is not the image I was striving for.

I have been investigating the possibility of a make over. I went to one beauty shop and I showed them a picture of Clint Eastwood when he 60ish. I asked if they could make me look like that. They said, "Sure, We will get the mask from Spencer's and we will get the wood for the stilts from Home Depot." I was not amused.

Perhaps it isn't to late for a makeover. This can be fixed. I mean, I don't scare children, women do not shudder, men don't look at me with pity in their eyes. Cats do tend to hiss and run at me sideways and pekingese dogs bark at me endlessly. Other than that....I'm good!

Get off my lawn

Tips on how to make your neighbors nervous: 

Lately the urge to be Clint Eastwood has again overwhelmed me.  

I have been thinking of calling the local radio station and asking to "Play Misty for Me".   I suspect they will not be doing it any time soon since they are a rap station.

I have been controlling these urges as best as I can without medication.  I do not want to alarm my wife but I now feel I must be my genuine self or as I like to be  referred to at the supermarket "Clint"  or simply "Mr.  Eastwood".

This morning I realized things may be getting out of hand and my neighbors may need counseling.  I stepped outside to get the paper and  Scott, who was getting his own paper, smiled and said "Hi".  I growled, " get off my lawn".  He mumbled something about being neighborly and went into his residence.  I don't know what came over me.

The thing is, I don't have a lawn.  Scott does not have a lawn.  No one in our Condo complex has a lawn.

There has been a few other telltale signs that I am becoming more Eastwoodish daily.

I have tossing out an occasional "make my day", a few "Do you feel lucky, punk, Well, do you?" and I say this to total strangers at Walmart or Denny's or  other high end establishments.  I told my wife that she could call me "Dirty Harry" or  "The Man with no name".   She calls me "The Man with no life".  

For this error in judgement I will have to exact some fiendish revenge much in the style of  The assassin that Clint played in "Eiger 'Sanction".  

My plan is to pull my pants up so the waist of my pants is right at the nipple line.  I will add some red suspenders and a bow tie and I will pretend I am Clint Eastwood doing an imitation of Larry King.  I will say things like, "In the next hour on the Clint Eastwood Show I will pistol whip the pope". 

I will do this while checking out at Walmart.

Wow, This even scares me a little.