Hey greaseboy.
Yeah, you, Bill; I’ve thought of you that way for almost fifteen years now, after I first noticed what’s apparently a permanent—and peculiar—sheen to your skin, especially your face. It’s almost as if you rub vegetable oil on yourself (for whatever reason).
And many of your friends too, Bill; when one examines them in your wedding pictures, they seem to have that same shine, that same glist, suggestive of oily, greasy skin. I dunno; maybe it’s a Boston thing, these overactive sebaceous glands.
Anyway.
- - - - - - - - - -
From one has-been to another has-been, we need to talk about it, Bill.
I’m sure it was discombobulating for you earlier this week, Bill, when you learned you aren’t as well-liked on Skins’s island as you used to be; in fact, those of us on this side were powerfully surprised at how unliked you are among the primitives.
And to think, there was a time you, Bill, were the number one primitive, top of the world.
From one has-been to another has-been, Bill, I believe what happened was that you overstayed your welcome on Skins’ island. You hung around way too long, becoming stale and dull. Just plain and simple, the primitives got tired of you.
There was a time, Bill, we thought for sure when all was said and done, after all was over, you’d be known in history as the Greatest Primitive, Ever. But you just hung around too long, Bill, and lost out to Chief S itting Bull, the bird-smacking stoned red-faced primitive, who at the height of his popularity, voluntarily absented himself from this mortal coil.
Maybe if you’d done the same thing, Bill, you’d now be known as the Greatest Primitive, Ever, instead of Redstone.
- - - - - - - - - -
You know, Bill, franksolich is a has-been too, but I’m pretty mellow and laid-back about it; everybody has his day, and then he doesn’t any more, and somebody else does.
I dunno when I peaked, Bill, but it was probably a few years ago, when that wretched miserable old bitch Anne won the Top DUmmie award for whatever year it was; when the sparkling old dude came in number two, and was given the very best award franksolich ever wrote. I’ve been downhill after that, Bill.
And I knew my day was done, and accepted it, a long time before anyone else did.
There used to be a time when franksolich posted something, even if utterly silly or trivial, both members and guests would rush post-haste to read what I said. Those days are long gone now, Bill; sometimes I’m lucky if four or five people read anything I’ve written during the course of an entire day.
But it’s natural growth, evolution, and withering, Bill, which is why I’m copacetic with it.
I’ve been riding off to the sunset for ages now, Bill—but if you’ve ever seen a Nebraska Sandhills horizon, which you probably haven’t, you know it takes forever and ever before someone’s completely out of view. I figure it’ll be at least a couple more years yet, before franksolich is barely a speck in the distance.
- - - - - - - - - -
Be philosophical about it, Bill; like franksolich, you had a good run, a great run, a better run than most people have. You need to be humbly grateful, as franksolich is, for having been given that opportunity to bask in the near-universal warmth and affection of your fellows.
And that ain’t hay, Bill.
