Downton Abbey

A friend of mine recently suggested I watch Downton Abbey. I did. And now I am presented with a  choice. A hard choice.

Do I continue to watch the series and slowly let my balls atrophy? Do I drown myself in the drama of this river of estrogen and gossip? Do I continue to watch this magical marvel and become acceptant of a world where I slowly develop mammary glands, drink tea and talk like an asshole? Will I slowly give up the fight and succumb to the romantic undertow of this heavenly stream? If I am honest with myself...yes.

I already drink tea like I'm in some sort of tea drinking contest. I have always talked like a pretentious asshole. The addition of boobs and the loss of my balls I think would be a fair price to pay for this rare jewel of entertainment. Is art in its perfect form worthy of the sacrifice it asks of me? Yes, I think it is. I will watch Downton Abbey.

I have told this story before...but I painted this picture called "Beach Cat" that I wanted to use so I will tell it again.

Once years ago I went with my friend Adrian to music class. I liked going because Adrian's music teacher had a huge cat named Ducky. To illustrate just how big Ducky was, I guess I would say he was the size of a Great Dane if a Great Dane ate something really fat like a hundred times over. This cat's name was Ducky because he couldn't even meow. He could manage a quack if his body was positioned just right. Hence the name Ducky. If Ducky had been human, he would have been one of those people who needs to be cut out of his bedroom by firemen.

He was a wonderful cat. The music teacher kept him on a diet, but I believe his problem was glandular. This particular day I went over and played with Ducky while Adrian had his music lesson. Midway through his lesson Adrian needed to go out to his car to get some sheet music. While he was out there he slammed his finger in the car door. He came back into the house acting like nothing had happened. He calmly talked to his music teacher and and acted perfectly cool. All of the sudden, he turned white and fainted. In my mind he appeared to fall slowly, dropping his sheet music and vaulting headlong into the couch that Ducky occupied. I remember being really worried about Ducky at first. Then, like a flash, I was worried about Adrian. What was going on? As it turned out, it was nothing. Adrian was just being a little bit of a puss because he hurt his finger. The good news was that Ducky got some exercise that day. I actually saw him run.