Goat's been got while Pearl conjures up Elvis

As Uncle Joe Bob once said: “My goat’s done been got.”
Since my fictional uncle never owned any goats of which I am aware, I will have to attribute his colloquialism and improper grammar to his being pissed off. It’s like my medicine woman once told me: “Never piss off a fictional uncle without goats.” This medicine woman, I’ll call her Pearl, should know these things. For she too is fictional.

So what gives here? Is my entire world a fantasy? Are all my acquaintances pretend? Perhaps I am fictional. Well, the answer is: 1) I don’t know. 2) Partly. 3) Occasionally 4) Unfortunately, no. But I did write myself into a precarious corner and now find myself struggling to get out like a mime in a box with depleting oxygen (somehow, I find that a pleasant thought.)

Nonetheless, I did have a few minutes while writing in which to cool down over being unable to access The Dallas Morning News Web site. It isn’t that I by any means will explode into tiny radioactive particles if I can’t access it. But it is a Web site on which I wanted to read a story and it also is one that I frequently have trouble logging into. I don’t know how many times I have had to e-mail their tech people. And this is over a period of a couple of years.

My message was sarcastic in tone today: “It has been a few days since I have been unable to log into your Web site. You guys must be napping.” I regret that I flew off the handle. I’m sure there is a logical explanation why theirs’ is such a crappy Web site. I’m sure I’ll get an e-mail from them soon which will say the problem will be taken care of in a prompt and satisfying manner. Until next time.

Did I tell you that Pearl had visions of Elvis — before he was even born? And Uncle Joe Bob once used his tractor to tow the frame of a home off its foundation after the owner got Joe Bob’s goat? (figuratively speaking). I guess it’s a good thing that Uncle Joe Bob really isn’t around right now. But Pearl? Also probably a good thing. She’d probably just scare the bejesus out of me.

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