I missed the Christmas card thing. What's that all about? It's not that I expect one, though: I'd get one from Fidel Castro long before I'd find one in my RR1 mailbox from my neighbor, or his son -(oops, I'm giving away my location in Maine).
   That reminds me: at one time, George the First had pretensions of workingclassdom. Back a long time ago, my mother was in the laundromat in Kennebunkport, and who was sitting next to her, waiting for the spin cycle? You got it, George the Elder. This was before Junior's joyride down Ocean Avenue in Kennebunkport, cocaine and beer streaming out of his nose and mouth, in various states of regurgitation. Anyway, the servants must have had the day off . . .