From the audience wrangler

I realize that everyone who reads this blog is insane. No. I’m sorry. That is no way to find your audience. Where is my audience? And why am I being stared at by six prairie dogs sitting on a fence with that sad look in their eyes?

These are questions along with many others that I will not be able to answer anytime soon. At least that is the case with finding my audience, as if my audience were like a set of car keys lost under the pickup seat, next to that stray French fry from the trip last year to Arkansas, along with exactly 12 cents in U.S. currency.

I know, for instance, that some would not understand my reference to Pope George Ringo (Pope John Paul George Ringo), the Beatles, get it? I worked with a guy in his very early 20s at my last job who admitted that until a couple of years ago he didn’t know who the Beatles were. I have no doubt this lad would likely not catch my reference to Frank Zappa in the piece I did today about Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah. The photo, for those of you who do not know and want to spoil it for everyone else (there!), is of Frank Zappa and not the Saudi prince. The late Frank and Abdullah appear at times to be separated at birth. Zappa looked frighteningly like Abdullah on the cover of his album Sheik Yer Booty, which is where Zappa’s picture originates.

So if you get stumped upon a reference that I make, just do what I do when it happens to me, cuss that $%^#@**^%*@@ writer and get on with your life. Also, if you happen to find my audience, please let me know. I like to get them rounded up and back in their pens before dark.

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