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Mark Schweickart
Talk about going down a rabbit hole, don't do what I just did unless you have quite a bit of time to kill. Here's what happened. As you know, I like to inflict upon you, my captive audience, one of my songs every now and again. However, having done this over several years now, I suddenly realized that I had not kept a log of which songs I had posted, so how would I choose what to inflict upon you next?
So here comes the scary, through-the-looking-glass, part. Therefore, I decide to skim through the previous 376 pages, one at a time, to catch my various song postings, which I did. However, it was almost impossible not to stop and re-read all of my own posts (being the narcissist that I am) as well as an abundance of posts from others that caught my eye. Needless to say, this has taken more than a few days to work through. My, oh my, we are a chatty bunch. The good news is that the reason it took so long is that, we are not only chatty, but... damn, classmates! ... we have been pretty friggin' entertaining as well! Hence – it was difficult not to get sucked further and further down that rabbit hole.
One of my own postings particularly caught my eye, along with its response from Jeanine, followed by one from Tim. I found these to be particularly entertaining, especially since the topic was directly related to a shared high-school memory. Therefore, I think you guys might lke to revisit this as well, so here is a flashback to postings from 2017, which in turn are flashing us back to a sultry night in 1966.
Mark Schweickart
Uh, oh, party at Jeanine's house! Some of you know what that means. It was not for nothing that Miss Jeanine earned the sobriquet "hostess witht he most-ess," now was it? As I recall it was senior year, and Miss Jeanine threw a party when her parents were out of town. Is this coming back to you yet? Anyone remember Tim LaVelle and his posse dropping by for a short while, before deigning it below his standards of acceptable partydom, and blowing on out? Too bad he left so early, because the party began to heat up. I won't say that there was alcohol involved or that there was a certain amount of making out (is this phrase still in our vocabulary?) going on among some of the attendees that night. I won't say that, but there might have been. Well, in my opinion it was turning into a fine party indeed, and since several of us had lied to our parents about where we were going to be spending the night, who knew where this innocent debauchery might lead? (Grammer-boy McLeod, do I get extra points for creating an oxymoron in that last sentence – "innocent debauchery"?) Anyway, as I was saying, things were progressing nicely, in my opinion, when late in the evening Sheriff Lavelle and his posse suddenly stormed back in, took one look around, and, holy firecrackers, Andy, he did not the like the direction this party had taken without him. He reared up on his morally superior high-horse, and plunged into the fray as if he were Moses descending the mountain with his new commandments in hand only to be horrified at the sight of us worshipping false gods in his absence. Does "making out" count as worshipping a false god? Who knows, but to Tim it certainly did. Cracking his metaphorical whip, he shouted "Upstairs, you Jezebels!" as he proceeded to separate the wanton harlots from the lecherous males, "And stay up there!" And with that, all ardor was cooled, all reputations saved, all prurience abated, and most of all, all minds completely boggled as to what had caused our ever-fun-loving Tim to change into Papa-G smiting the poor souls of Sodom and Gomorrah. I guess that is what can happen if a party happens without him.
The morale of this story, Jeanine, is: be careful about who you invite to come stay with you. John Brown, with white beard flying and eyes ablaze, might come busting through your door. And all you will be able to say, is "Oh, hi Tim."
Jeanine Eilers (Decker)
I finally told my mother about that party when I was 35 after my father died. She was horrified. The neighbors never squealed on us in spite of the garbage cans full of beer bottles. I was still pretty innocent at that point (believe it or not) and had no idea what to expect when I invited "a few friends" over. The "good" girls ended up upstairs but there was at least one female who stayed downstairs with the male sleepers. That's about all I remember. So much for being trustworthy at 17.
Timothy Lavelle
Memo to: Mark Schweickhart
Re: Your most recent post
Date: 20 April, 2017
Fm: Tim LaVelle
Mr. Schweickhart, I was recently drafted (in the first round) by Bishop Hartley HS as a left-wing commentator on their "Do you remember me" message forum to bolster their current group of would-be "rememberers". They are so dumb they think I actually went to school there. Thus I have not been attending to the Watterson website with my usual regularity.
Imagine my dismay when I check-in to the WHS site to see my name taken in vain by an amateur author over a reported incident of makeoutus interruptus. I believe there is a sub-text in your writing of "Let's goad LaVelle into some nonsense". You are bored with the current postings? Yes? Possibly disagree with some items, do we Marky-Mark???
In my own behalf, I have to tell you, that in those days - just a mere 50 or so years back - I was extremely effected...my actions possibly affected...by those teachers who were so dear to so many hearts. Teachers that I looked back on in later years and thought were for the most part, crap. I admit that I did send a holiday greeting card to one Mousy-mouse, the head man what-was-in-charge, from Viet Nam the first Christmas I was there. "Thanks to you, I'm where I'm at today" was my pithy - I couldn't spell pissy in those days - message. I grant those teachers did have a positive influence on many children who were already interested in learniing or deathly afraid of their parents.
Mark, my strongest recollection supporting my Holy Behavior was the doctrine of "If you think you love a girl, and you want to touch that girl, you must really hate that girl because you are trying to take her to hell". I believe this was taken from the Gospel of Saint Confusion of the Masses. This doctrine was taught to young Tim by those wonders of education, Da Nuns. Their idea, I assume was "let's take the most common need next to hunger and make it as evil as we can - after all, we need to save these blobs of humanity from themselves." Followed by raucus evil laughter. Was I a confused young man? What do you think?
I am pretty sure I was...transmoral. Clearly I don't recall the event as well as you do but pretty sure this was while I was a charter member of the N.U.N. organization. Our motto: "I ain't gettin' None so U ain't gettin' None!"
Go to Sedona Mr. S. Stack some flat stones on top of each other. Suck up some of the vortex of energy karma and get off my flippin' back.
Yer bud, Tim
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