I feel rested and tanned.

Hmmm. Not a bad look for you, but I'd lose the gingham shirt layered over the polo, especially if you're passing through Rhea County Tennessee.

HAHA!

Ya gotta make that your new Avatar, Gus! Hahahahaaaa!!!!

Too bad they have a ban on sunscreen there...

Whoo whoo<cat call> You're stunning!

You slay me Gus...roflmao

Those whom Gus has slain rest within the swamp...

I have a feeling that those who did not succumb to your masculine allure the first time around will do now!

wow

Gus- Looks like a roll of beef jerky stickin' out of your mouth!

Gus, the brim on that hat. Turn it down.

I disagree, Dys; turning the brim of the hat down tames the whole fashion statement that Gus is making.

It's the new a2k pin-up, fer sure!

Can you imagine the A2K charity calendar?

*Shields innocent eyes.*

I think it is the sad, dry remnants of that poor, much abused, johnson.

You sure that's not one of your countless bastard half-brothers, Gus?

Here's another I spotted in Tokyo..he was writing tanka poetry, while minding his swamps & rice fields...




It seems that the word prolific doesn't begin to convey the formidable scope of Grandpa Ratzenhofer's activity (and perhaps that of our Gustav as well).

My greatest pity and sympathy go to the many thousands of fair young maidens who with great beating of breast bemoan the fact that they may never sup at the table of Ratzenhofer manhood..

That is not my bastard half-brother, Monger, but rather a son. His name is Mitsu Arrakowa and I love him dearly. I haven't seen him much but I do send child support payments to his mother. Ahhh, the mother, a delicate Japanese creature who I met in '37, while vacationing in Japan. I never knew her name; I called her The Gossamer Lady. She served me tea and we went for long walks in Japanese gardens, and on occasion we would attend a spirited Sumo wresting competition.

After I discovered the Gossamer Lady was pregnant I decided to do the right thing and marry her and raise the child. We were married in the fall of '37 and young Mitsu was born in May of '38.

The three of us lived in a simple bamboo hut by a quiet river and all was well.

But then the floods came.

Mitsu and the Gossamer Lady were carried away by the rushing waters and the last thing I saw was little Mitsu's straw hat floating on the surface of the raging torrent.

I feared they were lost and left Japan.

Eventually I settled in Thailand and married Kiteema, a ravishing beauty who would go on to bear me this child...



We named him Sobeekatron. Again my life seemed complete. Until the day when I received news that Mitsu and the Gossamer Lady had survived the flood and were now residing at the Holiday Inn and anxiously awaiting my return.

I fled. It seemed like the thing to do. The years drifted by and my thoughts returned to the Gossamer Lady, Mitsu, Kiteema, and Sobeekatron many times. The love I felt was deep and I sent them generous amounts of money. But by then I had fathered many more sons and daughters, always fleeing at the next uncomfortable incident.

Eventually I ended up at my swamp. Now, it is only me and my animals and I spend my days on my porch, rocking in my chair, smoking my pipe, and thinking about the women and children scattered around the globe who are softly calling my name.

And my name carries in the wind... Gustav... Gustav... Gustav.

It is late now and I must sleep, but I must thank you, Monger, for stirring up the memories of my past.

They were indeed the days of wine and roses.

How come you don't mention Clara from San Angelo and her three?

Or the two sisters from Ann Arbor, still waiting for you, still, still telling those dear ones, now all grown with children of their own, the story of their astronaut father still circling the moon?

I know you don't like to refer to those dark seasons of delight in Rangoon, I know it was during the war and all, but dammit man, the family now numbers in the hundreds and yet it is still difficult to get the Indian authorities to recognize Ratzenhofer as a Hindu name. Your appearance before the local magistrate would be very beneficial, I'm sure.

I must run. I'm writing this on wi-fi in a cab and I have no money for the fare.

Joe

Damn it, Joe! Why'd you have to mention Rangoon? Those were the dark years; the years of opium and sake. I remember very little about the Rangoon years, but I have a clouded memory of siring many a child.

I bet they hate me. I never sent that bunch a dime.

I'm feeling pretty bad right now. Pretty damn friggin' bad.

They needed me....