A Quiet, Intimate Little Blog

Things are pretty quiet in here. Just as well. Crowds make me nervous.

Which reminds me of a joke.

Seems there was a man (out of respect for his privacy, I will refer to him only as “K”) who became fed up with the rat race and the general decline of Western Civilization and moved out to the country. Way out in the country. His closest neighbor lived miles away, in fact. Shortly after his move, one of his neighbors, Farmer Joe, dropped by for a visit. After exchanging pleasantries, Farmer Joe brought up the subject of a party he was having at his place that night.

“Anyway,” said Farmer Joe, “I would surely be pleased if you could come.”

“I’d love to,” said K.

“We’ll cook some barbecue, play some music, do some dancing. You like country music?”

“You bet!” said K. “‘Kindly keep it country, don’t wanna hear no symphony!’” he said, mimicking the song.

“How about rock ‘n roll?”

“Of course. Rock on!”

“Uh . . . right. Now, I do need to mention,” said Farmer Joe, “there will be alcohol in various forms served, and things may get a little rowdy. There have been occasions in the past when some fisticuffs broke out.”

“That’s okay,” said K. “I figure I can take care of myself all right.”

“Well, I figured you probably could. Oh, and one more thing. As the night wears on, there’s liable to be a little hanky-panky, if you know what I mean.” Farmer Joe playfully elbows K in the ribs. “I hope you won’t be offended.”

K chuckled a bit. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve been around the block a few times. I know the score.”

“Great!” said Farmer Joe. “I’ll look for you around 7:00.” Farmer Joe starts to leave when K calls him back.

“Hey, what should I wear?” asks K.

“Oh, whatever you want. It’s just going to be you and me.”