Friday, December 9, 2016

Love to Walk in the Rain

 That's me, another Gene Kelly.  Only I can't sing or dance.  I do own an umbrella
I love to walk in the rain.  
Soft droplets of water gently caressing my brow and body relax and entrance me. Alone in the mist I feel truly alive and at one with nature.
Sometimes I stroll on the spacious grounds at nearby Haverford College. Although I reside in a humble area named Havertown, I am around the corner from Haverford College, Merion Golf Club, and the fabled Philadelphia Main Line. Often I lie about my home address to out of towners & naive locals to pick up much needed status points.

It never works.

But I am fortunate indeed to possess at hand such a lovely and enchanting arborous environment in which to walk in the rain. 

Gee, the rain's kind of picking up now and larger droplets of water are pelting upon my brow and body.  It’s a bit colder too, shucks, guess I should have taken a sweater or light jacket.

But no matter.  Say, a lovely cottage ahead!  Must be the home of a Haverford professor, probably one in liberal arts whose students will graduate to live in their parents’ basements.  It looks so warm and inviting inside; mmmm, is that a blueberry pie they’re baking?

Ah, but I’m forgoing all that today as I walk in the rain rejoicing in the solitude of its now rapidly quickening pace and intensity.

Look at the young sapling!  Bursting from the earth and burgeoning skywards.  Observe the gentle movement of the chipmunk, the bunny, and the many diseased rats all about me.  Regard those gnarled tree roots right in my path.

Shit, I fell right over them!   Right into the goddamn mud!

Fucking tree roots, what are they doing out here in nature!?

It’s pouring now.   I’m freezing!  And gooey mud is seeping into my underwear!

I think it might be time to hightail it home, I hear the howling wind making a sound somewhat like the word “Katrina!”  I think this is the way out of the woods right past this thorn bush, and ….


My left arm looks like the moo goo gai pan at Sam Lo’s! And I forgot my first aid kit!  Actually I could only afford a third aid kit, it wouldn’t do much good. I’m bleeding and soaked and this is turning into a hurricane on steroids!

Look!  Two nearby gentleman are advancing through the downpour. Perhaps they are friendly college students coming to my aid. 

No, through the tempestuous monsoon I see they are both heavily tattooed and one young man has the words “I eat Jews’ emblazoned on his neck and he’s the less scary of the two.

HELP!  Get me outta here!  Damn it, every which way looks the same through this accursed degenerate forest from hell!

Ah, here’s the opening! Concrete and buildings and fast food!  I’m saved.

Well, finally I’ve made it home.  I might dry out by next Thursday, and gee, I'd love some damn blueberry pie!

Being one with nature?  Nah. 

Y'know, I hate to walk in the rain.  



  1. Walking in the rain is highly overrated, and blueberry pie will stain your dentures, Perry.

    I always suspected you danced more like Fred Astaire's lesser known half-brother, Clem Two-Left-Feet Astaire. I thought the only person who ate Jews was Linda Lovelace, and that was just for a snack.

    At this time of year, I expected you to be frolicking in the snow.

  2. Actually Linda Lovelace did eat Jews in the person of Harry Reams. Think he's dead now; I wonder why. Not planning on much frolicking for a while except for a quick frolic or two when Trump is impeached, probably when he's caught in a White House closet with Putin.

    1. I saw this morning where Mitch McConnell and several other Republicans were rooting for the CIA to find proof of a Russian link to election fraud.

      I told one of my Republican friends 2 weeks ago that Trump would be impeached by his own party within a year. Looks like I overstated the time frame.

      Briefings? Who needs fucking briefings?