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Woes usually not from finanaces

Down on Flounder Creek

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POSTED: January 30, 2009 2:27 p.m.
From what I read in this and other newspapers around the world is that everybody’s broke or are going to be soon.
Well, I’m sure that if I had a big pile of money to start with I would really be freaked out. But seeing as how I’ve always been financially challenged it doesn’t bother me that much.
There was a great line in a song by the country band Alabama that went like this, “Mr. Roosevelt said the stock market fell, but we were so poor that we couldn’t tell.”
I sometime sit and ponder the what if’s. What would I have done different about supper last night had I had about a zillion dollars? To start with I had fried whiting, fried shrimp, Savannah red rice and some okra (pronounced okrie by everyone at my house.) Other than the tea being a little too sweet for my taste, I can’t think of a single thing that I would have done differently, except maybe had it served by a petite little French lady wearing only an apron and an Atlanta Braves baseball cap.
The old adage that money can’t buy happiness may be true but if you have enough of it, you can buy your own ghetto and go “waller in the squalor” if so inclined. This happened to a friend of mine who became a very successful song writer. Larry Henley wrote “The Wind Beneath My Wings.”
First it was a country hit by Gary Morris. The good mailman brought a royalty check that helped Larry get straight with his credit card company. Then the song was a rhythm and blues hit for Gladys Knight and the Pips. The mailman came again. This time with a thicker envelope. Larry got straight with the IRS.
Larry was getting happier by the day.
One year later the same song was recorded by the “Divine Miss M.” Bette Middler and subsequently used as the soundtrack for the movie “Beaches.” This time the mailman brought the money in a wheel barrow and Larry was a happy cracker if there ever has been one.
The first thing he did was buy a pinky ring that had “pimpified” written in diamonds and a rich boy kit. The kit consisted of a new Lexus, a new Harley, a new boat, a new girlfriend and a great big, old house with 15 bathrooms and lots of assets. Oh, life was good and as soon as the new wore off of the new girlfriend he got another one. This one had even bigger assets.
In the gigantic palace he built a state of the art recording studio so he could write more hits and get even richer. Wrong!
No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get the lyrics or the melody to flow. Everything was sounding sterile as if he had been possessed by Wayne Newton wrapped in a Perry Como.
“What ever shall I do?” moaned an exasperated Larry. “Everything I write sounds as if it has been shot through a Hoover vacuum cleaner. It really sucks.”
Two or three new girlfriends later, while in the garage trying to crank a weed eater a terrific melody came into his head. Simultaneously while cussing the last ex-girlfriend and a stubborn weed whacker, the words started to flow.
“Is it still over… are we still through… If my phone still ain’t  ringing... I’ll assume it still ain’t you… I’ve half the mind to take the time… to look for someone new… But I’m not sure that I’m still over you.”  
Eureka! Call Randy Travis and tell him I’ve got it back.
Larry was jubilant. At last he was a song writer again. Only this go round, it was necessary for him to do all of his song writing in the garage while trying to crank a small engine.
The best I can figure out the motto to this story is: No matter how much money you have, it’s easy to cuss an ex-girlfriend, and hard to crank a weed eater, and you just can’t beat fried whiting and okrie.
Oh,  one more thing about my financial status. I’m not broke, but I’m badly bent.
 

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