My apologies for some of the formatting issues on the last couple of blogs; again, I’m new to the world of blog, so I’ve asked my lovely executive secretary Jeannine to do the actual posting of it. And I’ve told her to feel free and correct any errors, which has been her primary role for a quarter of a decade. She’s good like that.

    I’d like to go on record, provided a blog is considered “on record”, by stating that I don’t have a prison fetish, as was so erroneously mentioned time and again in Citizen Dick. The book claims that I built a huge prison cell in the basement of my house, primarily because I was preparing for the next stage of my life. That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows prison cells aren’t huge—they’re tiny, around 6 by 9 feet, unless you’re talking about administrative segregation (AdSeg), which is generally limited to cells no longer than 9 feet, unless you’re in a federal penitentiary, which, by law, has to be at least 9 feet long. I only made mine slightly larger to make room for a cappuccino machine I bought in Italy. It’s 7 x 10 to be exact. The cell, not the machine.

     And on that note, I really do like Johnny Cash. He hasn’t played in town for several years, but, when he does, I’ll be the first one to have our marketing department get me good tickets, maybe rent out a corporate box with a stocked mini-fridge.*

    You know, Johnny was into prisons. He wrote that song where he shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. That’s good stuff. While I consider myself a bit of a wordsmith (I used to write poetry to Jeannine back when we were in college together (I dated her for years…dynamite broad, but a bit hippy these days))*—I probably would have used Sheboygan instead of Reno, which doesn’t have the same ring to it.

    Sheboygan sticks out in my head because I got my ass kicked there in summer camp, and if you asked me, “Who would you like to shoot just to watch him die?”, I’d pick Chuckie Swill, that red-headed squirrel. He also peed on my radio, and when I told his dad about it during parents’ week, his old man said, “I bet it gets piss-poor reception now,” and laughed like a madman. I’d probably shoot his dad second.

Keep dialing…but on our phone lines!

-Noble Tud, CEO, CommGlobalTeleVista

<sup>* Jeannine Note: Johnny Cash died years ago.

** Jeannine Note: He dated me, I used him, but only needed to for two semesters. Since then, I’ve worked as his executive secretary for 25 years, and currently have the 10th highest salary at CommGlobalTeleVista. Yep, it’s worked out pretty well.</sup>