Arm-and-get-on!

I got me a querstion 'bout the end of the world. I've heard people talkin' 'bout this arm-and-get-on business since as long as I could remember. Them preachers are always scarin' you by tellin' you Jesus is comin' tomorrow, hopin' they'll scare the coins outta your pocket. 

Now we've got us a crazy satellite floating 'round up in the sky, at least that's what Luciano was spoutin' about the other day. I tell you, we ain't got no business makin' stars. Just yesterday I was thinkin' how we're always goin' and messin' with nature. I went down to the feed store and saw birds in cages. What's sadder than a bird in a fuckin' cage? I was talkin' with Dorcas, who stopped by for three muffins and something we call a 'frap'—coffee we throw in the blender and charge double for, and she said, a bird in a cage was like cuttin' the legs off a dog. It ain't probably a good idea! Sendin' satellite dishes into the sky to make our own stars might've sounded like a good idea to the city folk who ain't got any stars, but we've got plenty out here in Prairie Springs. Now, accordin' to Luciano, it's a-fallin' down and they're gonne shoot it up. That's probably where they got the phrase 'arm-and-get-on.' 

I, myself, ain't too concerned with the world endin' next year or in a hunderd more. Since it's been around for thousands of years anyway, I figure it'll stay that way. Where they mess with y'alls heads is confusin' ya in history classes. Why, you'd think the world didn't start until Columbus hit the shores of North America! Them Indians were livin' right pretty before Columbus got here. The United States ain't old at all. There're trees older than this country is. 

I'm gettin' away from myself. Anyway, if arm-and-get-on happened tomorrow, I've had me a good life. That's why you gotta live every minute for yourself and not worry 'bout what other folks is doin'. Some people, 'specially 'round these parts, are so anxious to see God, they try and play his part. I call this wastin' time. As I sit here wonderin' what to write next, the names Ted Swaggart and Jimmy Haggart come to mind. Or do I have those reversed? 

This lesbian woman, Rosie, looks like some folks just call her Ro, she seems like she's a nice woman. Got a colorful place on the computer screen, anyway. She gets a lot more questions that I get, but my answers are longer. I guess there's nothin' wrong with a little competition. Maxine says you can send anything in an email. I've been holdin' up that book about my town to the screen until my arm gets tired, but it hadn't taken it yet. Maybe Maxine'll knows where to stick it in. There's a skinny slot here in the front, but the book won't fit in there unless I stick the pages in one by one. I dunno what to do. 

Speakin' of Maxine, she's still without a ring on her finger and Luciano's off today. Tuesday is always a slow day here, for some reason. We need another bus load of geriatrics to stop in. The person who asked about the end of the world was also concerned about my bunion. That's real sweet of ya, but I forgot I had one until you mentioned it. Wait a minute—I didn't mean to write bunion. I ain't got a bunion. I got a corn. I guess there's a reason I didn't go into medicine and become a pedophilatrist. 

Thanks for writin'. Y'all don't know how happy you make this old woman. 

My love,

Winnie