Snacks for the coming Droughts

Kellog's may offer their version of this sure-to-be-popular Peruvian delicacy but I've got my money on Post's product.

I GOTTA BE ME ... MYSELF ... OR I

If you ever decide to clone yourself, read "How to be Your Own Best Friend," instead of "Winning Through Intimidation". I wish I had.

I cloned myself to have a friend who truly understood and empathized with me and I could think of no one who knew my inner workings better than I did.

My scheme backfired. I didn't know myself nearly as well as I thought.

Cloning is recreational, but pretty tiring. I was too exhausted to give my clone his own name, so I called him "Myself."

Myself turned out to be something of a dolt, if I do say so. He was overjoyed with his new-found freedom from what he sarcastically called, "Your body." He decided there were old scores to settle and claimed I'd treated him like a second-class citizen.

A creepy feeling swept over me. I soon harbored serious doubts about Myself.

"What are you insinuating," I demanded.

"Oh drop the innocent act, Man," I heard Myself say.

(I considered running away from Myself, but I could never hide from him.)
"Okay, stupid," he said ... I hate it when people argue ad hominem instead of sticking to the issues ... "how about the time you got caught cheating on that test we took in the third grade?"

"I give up. How about it?"

"You told the teacher -- and this is a direct quote -- 'I wasn't Myself!' You didn't have the guts to take the blame!"

"Oh, so you wanna play semantics! Well, dummy, there were plenty of times I wasn't Myself but I took the rap anyway. How about those times?"

"Sure, sure," he whined. I hate to hear people whine, especially Myself. "But Myself didn't cheat on that test, you did."

I reflected on it. What the heck? I thought, why not give Myself the benefit of the doubt? Surely there had been times when I was less than fair with Myself.

"And what about the time in the back seat of the car at the drive-in movie?" I heard Myself ask.

"As a matter of fact," I said, "that's one time you can't say I wasn't properly thankful. If you recall, when all was said and done, the next morning, I said very clearly, 'I'm so proud of Myself.' How about that?"

As we reminisced, I warmed to Myself.

"You always were a weird kid," he said. "Remember how you used to sneak around spooky old vacant houses with our friends?"

"Sure. I always thought it was a great adventure."

"Maybe for you. Remember why you did it?"

Suddenly I caught his drift, "Of course! I did it to scare the wits out of Myself!"

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded, "it's a wonder I've got wit-one left." Then he told me some jokes I'd completely forgotten.

Before I knew it, I was beside Myself with laughter. (But then, I've always been good at amusing Myself.) Sometimes I really crack Myself up. I really had to laugh at Myself.

Nevertheless, there were other things about which I remained troubled. For one thing, he acted helpless. Every time I went to get a beer, I had to get one for Myself, too. When he got the munchies, there I was, fixing Myself a sandwich.

"Who was your slave last year?" I asked.

"C'mon, Lee," he said. "I've got a bad arm and my neck really hurts. You oughta be used to the routine by now."

He had a point. I'd been taking care of Myself for years.

Precisely! And now I wasn't really getting the credit I deserved. Hey, I'd done a lot for the guy! I'd taught Myself to play guitar, repair cars, fix tape recorders and compete in sports. I'd taught him how to play poker, not very well, I admit, and every game he knew. Heck, I even taught Myself how to swim! You can't learn a better sport to save your life. Still, he knew which buttons to push and I felt twinges of guilt, so I suggested we go out for a few beers.

We hopped in the car and had another minor confrontation when I wouldn't let him drive. We compromised. I'd take us to town and let Myself drive us home.

We hit this bar and that and people asked were we twins and we winked together and said, "Sure." I got out the guitar and played while singing harmony with Myself. We were having a great time.

Then I made a major mistake. I saw Myself putting the moves on this gorgeous girl and decided, out of the kindness of my heart, to give Myself some room. I went to play some Pac-Man and Space Invaders. I should have kept and eye on him. When I returned to check on Myself, I found him penniless and drunk. Apparently he'd also insulted the girl because she had split. The worst part was catching Myself cadging drinks from other patrons. How disgusting.

I can hold my liquor fine, but I can't say the same for Myself. I forgot what a lush he is. Drinking at my normal pace, I scarcely noticed him slamming them down. I should have known he'd turn belligerent.

But when it happened, I could believe Myself. For that matter, I couldn't stop Myself. Oh, I tried several times, but he's a nasty drunk.

"D'you know whadda loush you rilly are?" he blubbered. "You always said things like, 'I'm ashamed of Myself! I can't stand Myself!' D'you have inny idee washlike t'be run down like 'at?"

I knew what he was trying to do, but I refused to feel sorry for Myself. Then he started crying and it looked like he was going to be sick. The situation was getting out of hand. I ducked a wild punch and then wrestled Myself to the floor. Before it was over, I demanded to have Myself thrown out. It was a terrible scene. I apologized for Myself, headed for the car and nearly tripped over Myself. He'd passed out in the parking lot. I poured him into the car and drove us home.

The next morning, as I heard Myself fumbling through the medicine chest looking for aspirin, I questioned whether I could live with him.

Then the phone rang. I got ahead of Myself to answer it.

"Hey, you sure made a fool of yourself last night, Man."

"No, I didn't," I said. "He did."

"I'll call back when you sober up."

Calls started pouring in. People asked how I could show my face in town after embarrassing Myself the way I did. I felt so humiliated, I left town for a week.

Was I ever surprised when I came home and heard Myself say, "Guess what? We've got another clone."

I glanced around warily, and there he was -- Me.

"Who gave you the right to drag Me into this? Did you ask Me if he wanted to be cloned?" I raged.

"It was lonely here all by myself," Myself muttered.

"What do you think about all of this, Me?" I asked.

"Don't ask Me!" Myself interrupted.

"Here we go again!" Me exploded. "Same old story! 'Leave Me out of it,' -- 'Include Me out!' Nobody cares about Me!"

"Who are you talking to?" I asked.

"Both of you!"

"Wait a minute," I said, "I'm the last one to find out anything around here!"

I studied Me a moment. He looked terrible, like he hadn't slept in a week. I turned angrily on Myself.

"Have you been giving Me drugs again? He looks like he's strung out on speed!"

"Lookit," Myself defended himself. "I was trying to share myself and you, of all people, oughta know how hard it is to keep Me interested."

"No shit, Sherlock! I had to leave town on your account! I can just imagine how you've bored Me with the story. Furthermore, you've probably been lying to Me all along."

"At first I felt kinda sorry for him," Me said.

I glared at Myself. "Same old story. Making Me feel sorry for you." I turned to Me and said, "It's okay. I get tired of feeling sorry for Myself, too."

Righteous indignation took over. I was so mad at Myself. If I'd been there, I never would have given Myself the chance to push Me around. I happen to like Me just fine, but I was getting real sick of Myself. In any case, now that I was home, I wasn't about to let Myself take advantage of Me, especially when I wasn't there to defend him.

Then all hell broke loose. I attacked Myself mercilessly, but I couldn't keep Me out of it. What's this? I thought. Surely there was no love lost between Me and Myself. When I saw Myself punch Me in the mouth, I grabbed Myself by the collar and tried to pull him off Me. He broke free but I lunged again, desperately trying to get a grip on Myself. I had to beat Myself to the punch. I yelled at him to leave Me alone.

But the damage was done. Whatever possessed Me to take so much dope when he, of all people, should know how it affects him. Now there was no reasoning with Me. I kicked Myself just as he hit Me while his back was turned. There was no stopping Me and I couldn't contain Myself. So I fled the room, locking them inside. Several hours later, after I calmed down, I called my best friend, Buck.

"Have you seen Me today?" I asked.

"No, of course not. What are you talking about?"

I quickly explained, gratefull I'd caught him before he heard it all from Me. I used to think I could trust Me to tell the truth, but the way things were going ...

"What did you do?" he asked, confused.

"I didn't have any choice," I said. "I went back with a gun and ..."

"You didn't ...?"

"I'm afraid so. I killed Myself."

"Can't you get in trouble for that?"

"C'mon, Buck, there's only Myself to blame! Listen, I've got a plan. I'm gonna fix it so they charge Me with the crime."

"Huh?"

"It's simple. I'm gonna turn Me in to the cops. They'll find his fingerprints on the gun. I'm so mad, I hope they throw the book at Me. But you know Me. They'll never take Me alive."

"Geez. I sure hope this works out," he said.

"One way or another, I'm sure it will. I just wanted to warn you before you heard it from Me. As far as I'm concerned, if I never see Me again it'll be too soon. Before I forget, if you do hear from Me, find out where he is and call the cops. Don't even hesitate. Hanging's too good for Me."

"OK, I guess," Buck said. "It sure doesn't make sense."

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Funny. I always thought I could count on Myself when the chips were down. I was wrong. I guess I overestimated Myself all along. And frankly, I'm worried about Me. After he saw what I did to Myself, I wouldn't want to run into Me in a dark alley.

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© 1982 by D. Lee McCullough, first published in the May 1982 issue of Southwest Airlines Magazine.

The importance of "under God"

Yesterday, a Berkeley University professor of linquistics, commenting on the 9th Circuit Court's decision that the words "under God" could stay in the pledge of allegiance, pointed out the following. (1) The phrase was lifted from Lincoln's Gettysburg Address: "... that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom ...". (2) In Lincoln's day the phrase "under God" was colloquial and meant "God willing".

What Lincoln was saying, translated into present day usage was "... that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom, God willing." Understanding this, it is all the more appropriate that "under God" remain in the pledge of allegiance because what it is saying is "... one nation with liberty and justice for all ... God willing."

Let us pray.

Stop Attacking Republicans

I'm sick and tired of all the abuse being heaped on the heads of Republican lawmakers. C'mon, everybody! These people are the finest dupes that medical lobbyist money can buy.

Should Fiat be Worried?

Chrysler already has a distant relationship with Italy. Remember the 1976 Plymouth “Volare”? Volare means “to fly” or “take off”. Over its five-year life, Volares "flew" off dealer lots at the rate of a little over 200,000 a year. Pintos were trotting off their lots at 400,000 a year.




Given the cheesiness of recent American marketing, Fiat has a right to worry about Detroit unveiling a “Mama Mia” SUV or a “Spicy Meata Ball” roadster. I wonder how you say "spicy meata ball" in Italian.

Enough Already with Nadya Suleman!

This is another one of those stories that just won't dry up and blow away and I'm totally sick of it. Every time I see another picture of Nadya Suleman--the clueless Whittier octamom--it makes me so mad I want to spray her lips with bee repellant!

Something New from Washington

We are hearing things out of Washington DC that we haven't heard in a very long time.

Complete sentences.