Neunundneunzig Problems

My dad has four brothers, which gives me four uncles from Wisconsin. So when I got a call tonight and I heard "This is your dad's brother," I had to think quick. Was it Kim, Rick, Pat, or Skip? I hesitated, and he took mercy on me and said "This is Skipper. Is your dad around?" I told him no and asked if he had a message, and Skip says "Well, just tell him is older brother by a year and a half called and told him to eat shit and die."

Oh man, Skip is sweet. I laughed a lot at that line, but my momma didn't get it. So is it a guy thing? Or just a Kuehn guy thing?

My dad has stories about Skip. Back in Milwaukee (and later in San Fran), when people would stop and ask Skip for directions, he would act all helpful, sometimes even draw them a map, and give them completely wrong directions.

"Okay, so you're gonna go down two blocks, then turn right BEFORE the bridge. You'll see a big yellow sign, turn left there, go down about 8 blocks, two quick rights, and you're right there."

Strikes me as a real Sam Walker thing to do. Except it would require talking to peolpe, so probably a no go there. Sam would just doctor road maps at rest stops. And hack mapquest so it would direct you into narrow alleys and dead ends and small lakes. And poison the town's water supply.

P.S.: I'm officially a National Merit Semifinalist. Whooo. The important thing here is that it means that this picture will be appearing in the Brainerd Daily Dispatch:Man, I 'd forgotten how much I owned the PSAT. I mean, I don't usually like to brag about test scores, but 230? Outta 240? Linda says I set the school record, which means I pretty much deserve my name engraved somewhere. Until some enterprising young 'un comes up with a 232 of course. Then it'll be him with the goddamned target on his back.