Editorial: Sad Sacks aren't real; they only think they are

Norris P. Thermadore III: An emergency meeting of the Sourdough Sad Sacks was held at their now-abandoned and defunct former hideout and casino at Belly Acres. The meeting was chaired by myself, with the treasurer's report being delivered by Bloody Parrot, at least what he hasn't pilfered. The minutes were read by the gang's secretary, Meriwether Blume. Also in attendance were members at large, Nigel, Bloody Parrot's younger cousin, Harly Ridgecracker, Madam Kahli, and her new husband, Dr. Eli Parsons. It was a bittersweet meeting at our old casino. Now dust lay thick over our gaming tables and slot machines, but the memories … the memories. Meriwether at the blackjack table with those cute dark glasses that allowed her to see the secret markings on the back of the playing cards, Bloody Parrot at the craps table with loaded dice, and Ridgecracker at the roulette table with the wheel brake hidden on the floor … so many memories. For some time, we sat around and reminisced on how we had all come to be. The Pirate found Bloody Parrot panhandling on a street corner in Sausalito. He had been working at Sally Stanford's place as a cathouse piano player. At that time, Sally was operating a very successful restaurant and bordello while at the same time serving as Sausalito's mayor. She thought the Parrot was giving the place a bad name. The Time Traveler brought me on while standing at a Greyhound bus depot urinal and noticed, "Norris Thermadore Porcelain Works" stamped on the bowl. Norris P. Thermadore III was born. Harly Ridgecracker came along for the ride. Nigel the Pitcairn Island Parrot got help immigrating with the help of Bloody Parrot after some unpleasantness involving the governor's wife. We picked up our palm-reading, spiritual and financial advising Romanian Gypsy hitchhiking down Highway 65 after she had been held at the Santucci Justice Center on a pandering charge. Meriwether Blume showed up at our place two steps ahead of the law. She had been serving God as a traveling evangelical, but at a stop in Nowata, Oklahoma, she batted her baby blues at the mayor and got him, along with the town's treasury, talked into running off with her. I heard he's in the hoosegow in Texarkana now. The last member of our crew is Dr. Eli Parsons, recently betrothed to Madam Kahli. Although new, he is looking toward converting our old casino into a gambling addiction clinic. After our trip down memory lane, we got down to business. I called the meeting to order and stated, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have been in this column so long that the readers think we're real, The Time Traveler and The Portuguese Pirate think we're real, and hells bells, we even think we're real!" With that, Harly Ridgecracker jumped up and exclaimed, "Hear, hear." "Can it, Ridgecracker," I said. "Or I'll have Nigel, our sergeant at arms, eject you out of the meeting. Now sit down!" To that, Ridgecracker sullenly replied, "Well, he better bring his lunch and a six-pack cause he's going to be at it a while." But I noticed he sat down. "In short," I continued, "we ain't real, we are a product of the Pirate's and Traveler's diseased-fevered brains and they haven't been writing about us lately. If they don't start soon, we will all fade away and disappear. As a matter of fact, I've been sending the AJ old columns hoping no one would notice. We have to find out what's going on with these two slackers. I heard The Pirate has found his life's work as a camp host at Brighton Beach emptying trash cans. I also heard that his wife Janice broke her ankle and she's back up here now. … I wonder what he pushed her off of this time. Rumor has it that Sally The Butt Lady is spending weekends down there picking up butts. Somebody has to go down and see what in the hell is going on." "I'll go," piped in Bloody Parrot. "I've been wid dat mutt since he needed a Parrot to finish his Pirate outfit. I'll go gab wid im." After the Parrot left, I went down to The Traveler's place. I found The Traveler slouched in a recliner with an unlit Cheap Bastard cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth, staring at a blank TV screen. He looked and smelled like he hadn't seen a shower in a week. "How long you been like this," I asked. "Since the election," he replied. "I'm so damn depressed I don't want to move." I sat quietly for a second, and then said, "Well, at least turn on the TV." "Oh Lord, No!" he replied. "The news just depresses me more and I've watched all the old episodes of Matlock and Columbo three times already. Just leave me be. I'll be all right eventually." As I turned to leave, he said, "Norris, do me a favor, would you?" "Sure," I said. "Do you want me to make you some soup?" "No," he replied weakly. "Could you tap the ashes off my cigar and relight it please? I just don't have the energy." Portuguese Pirate: "Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world." – Harriet Tubman "Change is the law of life, and those who look only to the past and present are certain to miss the future." – John F. Kennedy Be sure to tune and listen to the Newcastle Television Show each and every Saturday. You can find us on Placer County's world-famous KAHI Radio 105.5 FM, 950 AM or podcast us at kahi.com. Noon is the start time so be there.