Spitball Army

“A Late Quartet” at The Edge 12, Birmingham. Movie and a beer!

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Facebook recommends fan pages to me based on my friends’ personal interests: Jeff likes Mitt Romney; Danny Ray likes Samuel Adams.

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You’ll be better off, she said. Turn that down, she said. It’s the same every time, she said. Don’t mix beer and wine, she said.

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In New Mexico, writers drink Negra Modelo. In Mississippi, writers wear seer sucker suits. In Montana, writers go fly fishing.

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A 1944 South Seas Christmas brings gifts of beer, cigars and spearmint Wrigley’s. The soldiers celebrate with an Aqua Velva toast.

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This has turned out to be a pretty long letter, hasn’t it? Where did I find all those words? I’m sure I don’t know. I haven’t written the same thing over and over, have I?

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As for the rest of me, physically I’m O.K. I have a few odds and ends to break up the monotony though. They are: fungus, heat rash, athlete’s foot, crud, and a general breaking out all over.

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Approximate playing time: 80 minutes.

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I received 2 from you yesterday and was I ever glad to get them. I almost missed chow last night trying to finish them.

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One group of fellows are singing everything they can think of as loud as they can sing. Another group are singing slow, sweet songs as they should be sung. One of the guys has a harmonica.

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