Talk of the Town Ernie Anderson

The Great Escape
My friends, by the time you read this, it will be the first of December, which means we will have made it through the entirety of the most evil month on the calendar. Me, I think of November as something to be survived, through guile, perseverance and the occasional bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. Why, it’s like one of those escape rooms that are all the rage right now. The only difference is that if you get scared, wet yourself and start screaming, November won’t show sympathy and let you out early. Not that I’ve ever wet myself in an escape room, mind you. Not that you can prove, anyway.

Sit on it
So I have a new office chair and I’m afraid it might affect the way I write. For years, I’ve been writing these thoughtful and totally coherent columns from my old chair, with its feeble hydraulics, loose screws and spewing foam. It had gotten to the point where the chair had sunk so low, my eyes were pretty much level with the desk surface and I had to reach up over my head to blindly flail away at the keyboard. That explains a lot, doesn’t it? But now that I have a new chair and I’m sitting at the proper altitude, I’m having trouble getting in the zone. There’s so much to see from up here! So, if I start going off the beam and writing about nonsense like underpants and outdoor peeing, please forgive me. It’s probably the altitude sickness.

When you get right down to it . . .
With the atrociously early dark, this time of year is the absolute best for outdoor peeing! Also, you should definitely look into extra long, polyester and spandex men’s boxer briefs. Trust me, it will change your life.

You talking to me?
By the way, as of the final days of November, I still haven’t turned the heat on. It’s great because when I talk to myself, I can see my breath and that just adds drama to the conversation.

From beyond
I got a rather glum email the other day from an address that I’m pretty sure belongs to a man I know to have died many years ago. It was just one line bemoaning the sad state of the world and nothing more. To tell you the truth, it freaked me out a bit. I’m not saying that I’m a conduit to the other side, but let’s be honest. How many dead people have written YOU today? Maybe the new chair is serving as a kind of Ouija board for the butt. If I hear from any more dead folks, I’m just going to go back to sitting on orange crates.