I ask myself if it is worth all the trials and tribulations of travel to show up in Chillblain County, Maryland, where banjo players who start too early get stuck to their strings, flying three thousand miles in a pressurized cigar-tube, being shaken down by "F" students who finally found work, slogging over hill and dale to find a place to sleep, only to be surrounded by svelte Amazons with their long knives in hand, chortling WIccan spells and threatening to open my harmless scrotum for sport. Is it worth it, I say?

Then I think about the possibility of escaping them long enough to play "White Boy Lost in the Blues" with Bobert some time, or maybe do "Wild Colonial Boy" with Mick, or hear Kendall play that banjo up close, and I think to myself, "Lad, it is sure that there are some things in life that are of an Absolute Goodness, and that kind of music is among 'em."

So then I think futhah, and I think of possibly helping Mick and freeing Kendall and maybe even kidnapping Micca and taking him out for a tot of something nice while his keepers are being distracted by BB's foot-rubs, and I think, "Some things just must be done, no matter how risky, because they are of the Absolute Good."

Then I think what it would be like if the whacky War Among the Wimmin was called off and I could share all this chocolate I have wi' some of my favorite Cats, and sing melty ole chick songs like "The Kind of Love You Never Recover From" (even the title gives me chills) and "I Remember Lovin' You", an' stuff, and I thinks to meself, "Lad, the world has hope and beauty in it, as well as adventure, and Hope and Beauty are always worth striving for."

So then I think I will go to the Getaway, after all.

But the durable cup idea sounds good, too.


A