Retraction.
It just about kills me to do this. I mean, saying, “retraction” is pretty much akin to saying, “mistake.” I hate to make mistakes.
Hold on a minute, maybe we could reduce the sentence to “minor error.”
But that makes me think about “sentence.” Which makes me think about an FBI interrogation. I had a vision. Well, maybe it wasn’t a vision but just a thought running amok in my excuse for a brain. Anyway, I could picture an FBI interrogation.
FBI: Do you swear that February 26, 2018 was the first time you’ve been to Mac’s in over a decade?
Me: I swear.
FBI: Are you sure about that, boy?
Me: Yes, sir. It’s right there on my March Visa statement.
FBI: What about your February statement?
Me: February?
FBI: That’s what I said, boy. That statement shows February 21, 2018.
Me: That’s just a lousy five days.
FBI: You swore to the FBI, which means you lied to the FBI. That’s a hanging offense.
Me: (In a bit of terror.) Hang?
FBI: (With a fiendish look on his face.) That’s what I said, boy, hang.
Me: Well, I reckon that no noose is good noose.
So, if you have any compassion at all, I think you can understand why I felt obliged to write this.
Well, the honest truth is that I wrote the Mac’s thing around 10:30 last night. Then, at about 2:00 AM, I was meditating. Okay, I was drinking and smoking. And it hit me that I didn’t look at the February statement.
I’ve bored you long enough.
Oh, yes, I have a passion for puns. Give me a break, for cryin’ out loud.
