catfish 36

 Well what to make of this then, Beagles and Uncle Ken in agreement twice in a row and not that much time between the two events.  I was wondering if it was photoshopped or staged, but both seemed unlikely.  On the other hand, someone must have videoed it, it had to take place at some point in time at some point in space, so where was that?  Checking back I noticed that the other 'events' have dates and places and are attributed to real news sources.  The only attribution to the twerking thing is SBG which turns out to stand for Sinclair Broadcasting Group.  

And looking back at the whole thing I see something I hadn't noticed before So there it is, by KRISTINE FRAZAO, Sinclair Broadcast Group the tv station is just a catspaw for that syndicate.  I imagine they will allow objective news sometimes, but whenever they want to toss in some lurid editorial Challenges mount for American cities beset by crime they will and surely they are putting out scripts for their employees to read as if it was their personal opinion like they do for all of their affiliates.  I suggest that from now on when Beagles watches this captive news station he keep a salt shaker on the table next to him.

I'm familiar with the Washington Examiner it is indeed right wing.  When googling on the twerking I noticed that right wing sources like Fox and the Washington Post all reported on the twerking like it was a real event, whereas the lame stream media generally took a more skeptic view saying something like this is an odd video that nobody knows where it came from.

Enough of this falsity let's get to the honest story of Catfish.

And so I did.  Gina came with me to sign the papers and get the keys and all, and there we were two sweethearts walking arm and arm, and I’m figuring this it, the big payoff at last, but then it developed after getting a twelve pack for me and a bottle of wine for Gina and sitting entwined on the couch by the fire, and all cozy and cooing and all that stuff, and me dramatically wrapping her up in my arms and carrying her into the bedroom, that that magnificent waterbed was just a big rubber mattress.  I’m no better homes and gardens guy, but even I realized that we would need sheets, pillows, stuff like that, you need something to recline on to do that sweet talking, that, call me a romantic, but you really need to get into a romantic encounter.  And those eggs and that bacon that I had gotten from the Seven Eleven along with the booze, well you need dishes to eat them off, and knives and forks to eat them with and a Goddamn frying pan to cook them in.

 “We need to go shopping,” first words out of Gina’s mouth as I stood holding her above that rubber mattress. 

 Shopping?  We?

 I settled her gently on the rubber mattress.  She looked good there, her hair spilling out beneath her head, her back arched just so, but not so good as she’d look on a nice white sheet, her head nestled into a pillow, her legs tangled up into a blanket.  She was right, she was absolutely right.

 But shopping?  We?  I had this picture, like you see in the cartoons, the husband sitting in that uncomfortable little chair while the wife frolics, “Oh Dear, do you like the sheets with the blueberries on the edges, or these other ones with the morning glories twining around?”  And the husband with that weak smile thinking Oh God kill me now, and muttering something like, blueberries are nice, only to be asked what he has against morning glories.

 The husband, the wife?  And I saw her in that white dress on the curb, and the realtor in his preacher clothes, and I remembered what Ron had told me, and I was afraid. 

 But facts were at hand.  After all this time, after all this effort, this just had to happen.  And sheets would be nice, and pillows, and no way around it, that frying pan, and those dishes, and those knives and forks.    

 Kind of a dangerous move, I know, but I’d be damned if I was going into any department store.  “You know Darling you’re right, you’ve hit the nail on the head.  I, we, definitely need to get some stuff, but work, you know it’s really busy right now.  Lots of markups do be done, because um, we’re just moving into sector six right now, and they really need me, and anyway I don’t know anything about this stuff, and I’m thinking maybe you could go and pick out stuff so the place would look good, you know.”

 And she kind of hemmed and hawed a little bit, walked around the place a little bit, and I could tell that she was thinking of what kind of stuff would go where, and I’m kind of thinking that she’s thinking that if this stuff was left up to me, that it just wouldn’t look so hot.

 “Okay then.  Alright I’ll do it.  I don’t have any classes tomorrow, I’ll go over to Kuhn’s.  I don’t suppose you have a credit card?”

 A credit card?  “No I sure don’t.”

 “Well maybe you could give me a check then.”

 A check?  “Don’t have any of those either.”

 “Where’s your money?”

 “In my socks, well not in these socks that I’m wearing now, in my clean socks, in the bottom of my duffel bag.”

 “Catfish, you have to start living like a human being.”

 Sounded like good advice.  Lost some of its charm when we went down to the bank the next afternoon and all those fine green bills, wadded up one against another, turned into a little book with some numbers in it.  But her smile when I tore off that first check and signed my name to it kind of made up for it.