One Monday after the Battle of the Bulge,
General George S. Patton Jr. was
walking down a dusty pathway whereupon
he spied a little daisy on the side of the road.
Poor daisy, he thought to himself. No one
loves you! Well, he said, General George
S. Patton Jr. loves you, and then
proceeded to pluck the little daisy from the
ground and place it gingerly in his breast
pocket, next to the ten fucking million
war medals, shiny and resplendent. On
Thursday after the Battle of the Bulge,
the daisy finally expired. Upon discovering
it lifeless and quite limp in his pocket,
General Patton Jr. wept–those who saw him weep,
naturally, thought it was for another reason entirely–
and wrote of it in curious ways. It was if he died again–
but of course, he didn’t, not until of course, he did.
I diddled and sequished one of my hero books recently, COMMENTS WITHOUT COSMOS, adding some odes to beloved and favorite figures, including but not limited to: The Three Stooges, Robby the Robot, Walter Cronkite and his pastrami sandwich, and of course, General George S. Patton, Jr.
It's done and it is purchasable at the following place:
121 pages of happy affection for a mere 9.99 bob* – give one a spin, won't you?
* YES, I have been watching too many of THOSE movies lately and NO, not movies with people named 'Bob' in them ...