"Acting is all about honesty. If you can fake that, you've got it made." George Burns

It's Monday, and I am at it again, on this September 24, 2012. Those of us who are professional actors have to know our stuff. That's right. Surprise, surprise. I am one. I perform an acting role. I get paid for doing it. The character I play has a huge and well established fan base and is beloved by untold millions. I have promotional headshots made by a professional photographer. (They say that all professional actors must have their own promotional headshots.) I require special makeup. In fact, I recently had to do research on the best product available to add whitening to my eyebrows. I also ordered up another round of bright red rouge for my cheeks. You know. Jolly and all of that. I suppose I could also be called a professional makeup artist because I do apply my own makeup that helps me to get into character. I have made several special design adjustments to my costume. Does that also make  me a professional costume designer? I have occasionally driven myself to one of my acting venues. Does that make me a professional chauffeur? Then there's advertising, booking, and billing. I'm getting tired just thinking about it. How would you know these things if I didn't tell you? I'll let you know if and when I get scheduled for an autograph session. Meanwhile, I will be practicing my alter ego's signature and try to decide which one to use: Saint Nicholas or Santa Claus, or Father Christmas.

I don't blame you for being skeptical because it even sounded far fetched to me. I actually wrote it to be in the form of a site gag. But after reading it a couple of times I'm not sure it accomplishes the desired intention. Meanwhile, let's move on. How in the world are you doing, neighbor? I do hope all is well. I understand there are developments of note going on around us. The reruns of Hee Haw have turned out to be fairly successful in certain parts of the South where they are advertised as documentaries. I also heard about some fellows being turned away from Sea World. They showed up with their fishing gear. One poor fellow was sad when they told him the good looking girl he had his eye on was out of his league. He wondered what night she bowled on. Some people do have it rough. Then there's the fellow back home who was pulled over by the State Trooper. The cop asked him if he had an I. D. He answered, "Bout wat?"

I know those are pretty lame, but, cut me a little slack, it is, after all, Monday, and I think we all know how slow those gray cells can be early on a Monday morning. It even takes the Community a little while to seek them out and shake them awake. Until then, they can be slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter. I was going to use that one about molasses on an ice cold morning but you've heard that one before. I may have to double up on the caffeine to help clear up my fogginess. Some people have summed up this malady by saying one is operating in Duh-Mode. I'll try to do better as we continue this week's journey where we are seeking to find out exactly what is behind door number three. They say that a goodbye is never really painful unless you are never going to say hello again. Lord willing, we will meet again, and until then I leave you with the poetic lyrics of that famous little song written by the late Dale Evans, "Happy trails to you, until we meet again. Some trails are happy ones,  Others are blue. It's the way you ride the trail that counts, Here's a happy one for you."  May God bless. Amen.    ....More later.