Yes, big storm. Pay attention to that.
Think carefully, Dowd. Didn’t you know somebody, sometime, someplace by the name of Harvey? Didn’t you ever know anybody by that name?
No, no, not one, Doctor. Maybe that’s why I always had such hopes for it.
Yes, the transparent Friday News Dump dodge is oh so smart.
Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say, “In this world, Elwood, you must be” – she always called me Elwood – “In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.” Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.
There are only 2 things wrong with this. It’s old and he didn’t “resign”.
Well, 3 if you count “How did this Nazi poseur (who is a “Doctor” in the same sense I am a “Doctor” of Theology from Trump University) get a job in the first place?
Well, I’ve wrestled with reality for 35 years, Doctor, and I’m happy to state I finally won out over it.
And then there is Pink Panties Arpaio who will not, unfortunately, get the chance to personally model his favorite choice of undergarment.
Harvey and I sit in the bars… have a drink or two… play the juke box. And soon the faces of all the other people they turn toward mine and they smile. And they’re saying, “We don’t know your name, mister, but you’re a very nice fella.” Harvey and I warm ourselves in all these golden moments. We’ve entered as strangers – soon we have friends. And they come over… and they sit with us… and they drink with us… and they talk to us. They tell about the big terrible things they’ve done and the big wonderful things they’ll do. Their hopes, and their regrets, and their loves, and their hates. All very large, because nobody ever brings anything small into a bar. And then I introduce them to Harvey… and he’s bigger and grander than anything they offer me. And when they leave, they leave impressed. The same people seldom come back; but that’s envy, my dear. There’s a little bit of envy in the best of us.
So far, I haven’t been able to think of any place I’d rather be. I always have a wonderful time – wherever I am, whomever I’m with. I’m having a fine time, right here.
I know where I’d go.
I’d go to Akron.
Akron? Oh, yes.
There’s a cottage camp just outside of Akron and a grove of myrtle trees. Green, cool, beautiful.
That’s my favorite tree.
And I’d go there with a pretty woman.
A strange woman. A quiet woman.
Oh, under a tree?
I wouldn’t even want to know her name. Where I would be just “Mr. Smith.” And I would send out for cold beer.
No whiskey, huh?
No. Then I would tell her things. Things that I’ve never told to anyone. Things that are locked deep in here. And as I talk to her, I would want her to hold out a soft white hand and say, “Poor thing. Poor, poor thing.”
I’ve never heard Harvey say a word against Akron. Wouldn’t that get a little monotonous, just Akron, cold beer and ‘poor, poor thing’ for two weeks?