Volume 3 #8 March 11, 2002 My little guy has been telling me for the past few years that I should write an autobiography. I say: "No way! No one would ever believe it! It would give even Stephen King nightmares!" Well, it's not been that tragic but on the tragometer needle it does shove it over the limit many times. I've never read any of Mr. King's books because I don't need his nightmares. I have enough of my own. And, I am a dog lover, so I don't want to know anything about "Cujo". I did trip out on Max Von Sydow in "Needful Things" when I was cable hopping. But when my guy came home and I announced so proudly that I had discovered a "gift"... ( I always consider an accidental viewage of some actor I adore a present meant just for me. ) ...my dude said that I had just watched a Stephen King film. I said no. I just enjoyed a Max Von Sydow flick. My guy was so determined to prove it to me he bought the DVD. ( Yeah, we have a player and even a big screen projector. ) Anyway, back to my penning the autobiography. I've tried. Honest. But every time I put my pen to paper my hands quake. No one need suffer vicariously through me. 'Sides, it's my life... Thanks Billy Joel for writing one of your few songs that entice me! So, I'm not gonna do it. I will not splatter my life long "agonies and ecstasies" in hard bound copy. Copy being the operative word. I lived it. It is mine. So, no in-print recordance of my life. Excuse me. I must answer my persistent ringing phone. Random House is on the line, again. At the very least, if I do cave in and ink it... You won't find it in the "funny papers".