The more I read from Don, the more I realize that he is completely obsessed with his early 1970's milieu - he was younger, he worked in an auto factory making shitty American cars, he drank a lot, smoked a lot, there was a war going on and a Republican to blame it on, and the upper Midwest social and cultural ethos still permitted he and his buddies to crack a few non-union skulls when needed or desired. Once in a while he'd part the old lady's sea of pubes at night, and he probably had a chick or two from the factory on ice. He went to union smokers out near the water every year, where they crammed in cold cuts and beer and told Polish jokes until the shop steward came by and told them to cool it down. He probably drove a 1971 Plymouth Fury, with a glovebox big enough to store a blackjack and a fifth of Old Times, both of which came in handy when it was time to muscle up on young punks who needed to be welcomed to the union. A kid could graduate high school and go straight to the factory; no need for any queer-assed college. There was a free union ham every Thanksgiving and Dom DeLuise on Carson every month or so. Good times, Don. We wish you could go back to them, too.
