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What? you don’t like Mad magazine?

June 24, 2012

The following is an email sent to me regarding my last posting here, “Kid’s forts.”  This is from one of my oldest friends, an old Los Gatos resident who moved to his vacation house in Port Angeles last year, on Puget Sound.  Usually, I like to get people’s permission before I put their stuff on the web, but he takes so long to reply, I’m just put this here whether he likes it or not.  Time is a consideration in this situation.  And, dig it, he has a computer but no phone.  He is more stubborn than me, if you can believe that?

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Hi Ed,

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I liked the latest. A lot was familiar, from the “behind the barn” way of thinking – you should see my new garden fence gate. I cut up an old metal retail wine rack that was lying about, to the underground fort – ours was in my best friend’s backyard, so we had no tractors to worry about and the roof was an old door. I do remember that the mustard grass grew over our heads. We would make paths through the orchards and forts in the grass. Then came the farmer plowing everything for irrigation. It ended the forts but now we had dykes and ditches that were perfect for war games. Once the orchard was flooded we had a few days of wading- amphibious assaults on the enemy. Quite a nice, Tom Sawyer-ish childhood I had (and yes, I did have a Huck Finn best friend. More on him, perhaps, later).
HOWEVER . . .
Never liked Mad magazine? Well, my beamish boy, I not only liked it, I still have them! (if they weren’t so care-worn from constant re-reading, they’d be worth a bundle now.) So let me step in and throw you a little PDF sampler of a few choice pages. As is my usual, anal wont, I am in the process of scanning the mags. You get to be the first recipient of some of my “work.” See a bit of what contributed to my development – or lack thereof.
Hopefully, we’ll see you in mid-August. If I remember, I’ll bring my Three Stooges talking bottle opener.
Hope things continue to look up.

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Yours in self-exile,
Tom

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He often derides my lack of any “kitsch” sensibilities.  While he was reading Mad, I was reading “Anna Karenina,”  who’s the weirdest?  But, up there in  Washington, he hasn’t gotten a phone since he’s moved.

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Here are a couple of pages from his 14 page Mad Magazine attachment (note the year, we were both 10 years old then):

 

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If Tom was in the slightest way hip to the new world all around us, he might use any of the Mad Magazine collections already scanned and posted on the web, but no, he has got to do it himself, from his own collection.

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Bye the way, Tom doesn’t have a Saint Christopher on his dash board, he has a “Cone-head.”

 

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