I don't know about the coffee. Never touch the stuff. But the bottle of Night Train I kept in my coat pocket kept the evenin' lively! (Even as we sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." And "Repent, Repent all ye Sinners!")
You still have time to repent. The MAGA train always has room for one more. The Florida Orange man, the previous POTUS who still thinks he's in the Oval Office but it's the one in Mar-A-Lago is open to all the fallen self-corrected sinners who realize that HE is the one. HE is the salvation to this sick failing empire we call America. You could make a political advertisement with the "Pillow Man". This will promote your new book about your righteous conversion to the MAGA way of view. You'll be on the national evening news as well as the Sunday News magazines programs. You'll be the prodigal son who finally found his way home. Welcome back.
Where to start? First impression, we'd feel privileged to be close to you and your roommate, in person for sure. Our guest room has it all. It's actually a complete apartment with a large outdoor balcony and a view. Now for the coming of spring. I'm referring to the spring that includes the revival of the more truthful. We are feeling that too. June, you say. As Paul Harvey often said. "If it's not the way to hope, it is the way to pray". rr
Home is wear the mess is, Garrison. As long as you can make sense of the elan of its lawlessness, let others sit back and wonder. In the meantime, keep writing, keep living. We will invite you into our messes.
You live a commendable life, Mr. Keillor. Although, all things taken into consideration and having weighed all the facts both "for" and "against" it wouldn't result in any harm to live more like me, a bachelor farmer way out on the far, far edge of the prairie in the western reaches of Lake Wobegon where we still don't have T.V. or the Internet and the phone lines were just put in in 2002.
I sleep on a mat atop a cold, musty cement floor in an under-heated over-crowded house full of failed bachelor farmers. Men who couldn't make the cut and were exiled to where no one (at least no one with any brains) wanted to go.
Officially retired, I sleep on the mat twelve hours a day and spend another eleven hours lying on the same mat wondering where it all went wrong? Was it that time in the sixth grade when I answered Ms. Strauss incorrectly? Was it when I quit that job at "Bob's Pretty Good Grocery"? Or was it when I dropped out of What's-a-matta U. to fly to Nepal and seek wisdom at the feet of the venerable and saintly Master Patsamoddyquadimogin?
Somewhere It all went south.
Then for that final 24th hour of the day I turn on "Prairie Home Companion" and like the Lark in Spring my soul doth taketh flight and I do banish tribulation and say to thee a fond Good-Night.
Dear Garrison... OK time for you to stop this woe is moi nonsense. You are loved &: admired by untold thousands of people who, while they like me really don't know you, think they do, & they love who you are & what you do despite your warts & wrinkles. Now whether or not that love would still last if you were staying in our basement bedroom instead of being admired from the audience as you stroll the stage is of course another issue. You are like family, & as a wise individual once said (notice I ducked the gender issue) "You don't have to like your family; you just have to love them." And, we do.
Ah Garrison, the travails of organization. How well I know them. As a working guy I spent a lot of time on the road as a video producer. Always leaving from a motel at some ungodly hour in the dark morning. At that time I organized my life around the hat principle. I always wore a hat. So at night I would place it upside down on the motel bedside table and put everything from my pockets in it, keys, wallet, glasses, fountain pen, pocket knife, phone, whatever. The next morning if I had my hat on my head I knew I was organized. But alas, that doesn’t work at home and I am not sure you wear a hat. Oh well.
Beverly: I fine it odd that your post castigates GK for his political comments, yet you're apparently a follower of Heather Cox Richardson. Care to explain?
Relax, Bev. We're nearing the end (that is, if Tramp er, Trump) wins so that he and Putin can Officially take over the world and tramp it to bits. Lonely men make fearsome leaders.
Hi Garrison, I looked forward to PCH every weekend. Listened on the car radio and truly enjoyed most of it. Writers Almanac is something I enjoy very much also. I gloss over your political rants in your column.
Garrison, I think a beautiful Lennox crystal punch bowl would hold you precious accessories. Just don't forget where you put the punchbowl. Maybe add a flag of your choice.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I am a free list reader. I am also a conservative, but I think I am an ok person if one can be that. You, Sir, I would have to say, are a progressive liberal but also an ok person. Hey, we could go for coffee; I, of course, would pay since I am a free list rider! As I get older, I find myself wanting to listen to views that challenge my own. As a society, we have evolved into left/right only group think. Thanks for allowing me to tag along as a noninsider reader!
You seem like a good rational guy. What is it that causes you to want to brand yourself as you have? Not necessarily bad but I'm just curious. Care to comment further?
Well, those are both admirable, and can apply to anyone of any persuasion. but don't really answer the question which is: as opposed to calling yourself a liberal?
"there is no good story without trouble" Or rather, conflict. There is also no good story that endorses or defends the status quo. Especially the political status quo, regardless of party.
The artist defends truth. Pity the writer who points to any institution, formed and maintained by cynical power brokers, and says, This be truth. When the tempest clears the writer will be forgotten.
Dear me, Mr. GK. Who knew you were lonesome? Even with a houseguest and a good marriage.
For heaven’s sake, don’t wait for people to call you. Call them! They’re probably lonesome, too.
You come across as so busy, writing, traveling, doing shows. Probably no one wants to bother you, like you haven’t wanted to bother others. Plus the idea of a place like La Cote Basque - humble brag? - feels intimidating. I don’t even know how to pronounce it. And six figures? You poor thing.
Why on earth would you think of yourself as a misanthrope? Are you? Is that your self-image? Why would people who have read your books think that of you? Maybe write a book about the misanthrope, the curmudgeonly, old, privileged white man. Just for yourself. Embrace it. Delve deep. See what comes out. Why is he like that? What does he need? Maybe find a way to love him.
Now, old man, find your *!#+ phone and go for a walk. Engage in small talk. Then go home and call someone you love.
If you’re ever in Essex Ontario DM me. Worldly advise... never date a social worker.
I wonder what an AA meeting in Lake Wobegon would be like? Would the coffee be better than average?
I was there.
I don't know about the coffee. Never touch the stuff. But the bottle of Night Train I kept in my coat pocket kept the evenin' lively! (Even as we sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." And "Repent, Repent all ye Sinners!")
You still have time to repent. The MAGA train always has room for one more. The Florida Orange man, the previous POTUS who still thinks he's in the Oval Office but it's the one in Mar-A-Lago is open to all the fallen self-corrected sinners who realize that HE is the one. HE is the salvation to this sick failing empire we call America. You could make a political advertisement with the "Pillow Man". This will promote your new book about your righteous conversion to the MAGA way of view. You'll be on the national evening news as well as the Sunday News magazines programs. You'll be the prodigal son who finally found his way home. Welcome back.
Where to start? First impression, we'd feel privileged to be close to you and your roommate, in person for sure. Our guest room has it all. It's actually a complete apartment with a large outdoor balcony and a view. Now for the coming of spring. I'm referring to the spring that includes the revival of the more truthful. We are feeling that too. June, you say. As Paul Harvey often said. "If it's not the way to hope, it is the way to pray". rr
Sir you are playing my song. Take away the fame, fortune, adulation, talent, and misanthropy and you and I are just alike.
You really don’t need to read or respond to this comment. I don’t want to be a bother…
Correction: I meant to say “alleged misanthropy”.
'Thanks for the correction.
Home is wear the mess is, Garrison. As long as you can make sense of the elan of its lawlessness, let others sit back and wonder. In the meantime, keep writing, keep living. We will invite you into our messes.
I’m going to quote you Timothy! Thank you.
Dream on!
And, as my father said to me as I left for each date, "Use your head!" And nothing below it....
You live a commendable life, Mr. Keillor. Although, all things taken into consideration and having weighed all the facts both "for" and "against" it wouldn't result in any harm to live more like me, a bachelor farmer way out on the far, far edge of the prairie in the western reaches of Lake Wobegon where we still don't have T.V. or the Internet and the phone lines were just put in in 2002.
I sleep on a mat atop a cold, musty cement floor in an under-heated over-crowded house full of failed bachelor farmers. Men who couldn't make the cut and were exiled to where no one (at least no one with any brains) wanted to go.
Officially retired, I sleep on the mat twelve hours a day and spend another eleven hours lying on the same mat wondering where it all went wrong? Was it that time in the sixth grade when I answered Ms. Strauss incorrectly? Was it when I quit that job at "Bob's Pretty Good Grocery"? Or was it when I dropped out of What's-a-matta U. to fly to Nepal and seek wisdom at the feet of the venerable and saintly Master Patsamoddyquadimogin?
Somewhere It all went south.
Then for that final 24th hour of the day I turn on "Prairie Home Companion" and like the Lark in Spring my soul doth taketh flight and I do banish tribulation and say to thee a fond Good-Night.
Bob’s? What happened to Ralph?
Dear Garrison... OK time for you to stop this woe is moi nonsense. You are loved &: admired by untold thousands of people who, while they like me really don't know you, think they do, & they love who you are & what you do despite your warts & wrinkles. Now whether or not that love would still last if you were staying in our basement bedroom instead of being admired from the audience as you stroll the stage is of course another issue. You are like family, & as a wise individual once said (notice I ducked the gender issue) "You don't have to like your family; you just have to love them." And, we do.
Neil Richards ...my motto?
"... thinking a specialty..."
Ah Garrison, the travails of organization. How well I know them. As a working guy I spent a lot of time on the road as a video producer. Always leaving from a motel at some ungodly hour in the dark morning. At that time I organized my life around the hat principle. I always wore a hat. So at night I would place it upside down on the motel bedside table and put everything from my pockets in it, keys, wallet, glasses, fountain pen, pocket knife, phone, whatever. The next morning if I had my hat on my head I knew I was organized. But alas, that doesn’t work at home and I am not sure you wear a hat. Oh well.
Dropping my subscription. Your political comments are uncalled for.
Your loss.
Beverly: I fine it odd that your post castigates GK for his political comments, yet you're apparently a follower of Heather Cox Richardson. Care to explain?
It is possible for a very dim or hasty reader to interpret this post as pro-Trump.
Relax, Bev. We're nearing the end (that is, if Tramp er, Trump) wins so that he and Putin can Officially take over the world and tramp it to bits. Lonely men make fearsome leaders.
Hi Garrison, I looked forward to PCH every weekend. Listened on the car radio and truly enjoyed most of it. Writers Almanac is something I enjoy very much also. I gloss over your political rants in your column.
Garrison, I think a beautiful Lennox crystal punch bowl would hold you precious accessories. Just don't forget where you put the punchbowl. Maybe add a flag of your choice.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I am a free list reader. I am also a conservative, but I think I am an ok person if one can be that. You, Sir, I would have to say, are a progressive liberal but also an ok person. Hey, we could go for coffee; I, of course, would pay since I am a free list rider! As I get older, I find myself wanting to listen to views that challenge my own. As a society, we have evolved into left/right only group think. Thanks for allowing me to tag along as a noninsider reader!
You seem like a good rational guy. What is it that causes you to want to brand yourself as you have? Not necessarily bad but I'm just curious. Care to comment further?
Two words Sir, Courage and Confidence.
Well, those are both admirable, and can apply to anyone of any persuasion. but don't really answer the question which is: as opposed to calling yourself a liberal?
"there is no good story without trouble" Or rather, conflict. There is also no good story that endorses or defends the status quo. Especially the political status quo, regardless of party.
The artist defends truth. Pity the writer who points to any institution, formed and maintained by cynical power brokers, and says, This be truth. When the tempest clears the writer will be forgotten.
Dear me, Mr. GK. Who knew you were lonesome? Even with a houseguest and a good marriage.
For heaven’s sake, don’t wait for people to call you. Call them! They’re probably lonesome, too.
You come across as so busy, writing, traveling, doing shows. Probably no one wants to bother you, like you haven’t wanted to bother others. Plus the idea of a place like La Cote Basque - humble brag? - feels intimidating. I don’t even know how to pronounce it. And six figures? You poor thing.
Why on earth would you think of yourself as a misanthrope? Are you? Is that your self-image? Why would people who have read your books think that of you? Maybe write a book about the misanthrope, the curmudgeonly, old, privileged white man. Just for yourself. Embrace it. Delve deep. See what comes out. Why is he like that? What does he need? Maybe find a way to love him.
Now, old man, find your *!#+ phone and go for a walk. Engage in small talk. Then go home and call someone you love.