  Well ... I was gonna name names ... but then I got to thinking (I do that ocassionally): if I don't name names, I can write anything I want and don't have to worry about it. Kinda like working for the New York Times. Let me start by saying I use the word "friends" loosely. I don't have any enemies -- all my friends hate me. Okay, I'll name names. Let's start with ... hmmmm ... "Rich".
Rich has been my friend since 1975. Yep ... that long. He's a wirey little guy, about three years my junior, and about two inches shorter than I am. Imagine that ... shorter that I am! Why, Rich would be turned away at a carnival ride ... in Japan. He's also a very complex kind of person. His politics are all over the place, although his constant, annoying, tiring, over-the-top rant is "anti-government". No, he won't vote , no, that would require too much effort I guess ... but he'll complain to no end.
I mean NO end. Rich, you're my best friend, and I love you like a brother, but it's getting old already. Just do like the rest of us and take your money and run. And run he does. All over the frickin' place. The guy has the world by the short hairs, if'n ya know what ah mean. He's self-employed; cuts grass and does handyman work. Lives below the poverty level, too, yet spends about three weeks on vacation in Florida every winter (he lives in Maryland). How does he do it? In 1987, I helped him build a log cabin back up a logging trail in the mountains outside of a small Maryland town.
Solar electric, spring-fed water supply, pretty much self-sufficient (except for food. Sheesh ... "except for food" ... is that like saying "except for AIR"?). Everything he owns he owns. Everything's paid off, even the tractor he bought (it caught on fire, too, while he was on -- yep, you guessed it -- another vacation in the Boston area recently). He even goes Dumpster Diving in the winter. Don't laugh ... you'd be amazed at what supermarkets throw out. Perfectly good stuff. One bottle of ketchup breaks and gets the other bottles in the crate messy, and they just toss the whole crate.
That's a sin, but to him it's a windfall. "Hey honey! There's a run on Oodles Of Noodles down at the Food Lion! Get the flashlight and let's get next week's groceries! " Don't get me wrong; he's a great guy. Super. Can fix just about anything, and isn't afraid of anyone. He'll speak his mind no matter where or when. I've seen him get up and walk out of a church service because the pastor or someone else up there was being a jerk. He just does not care what people think. Really. We all like to say that about ourselves, but he really doesn't care (my father's the same way ... and my son pretty much, too. I *think* I'm there, too. That doesn't bother you, does it?). Married 20 years, he's seen a lot and done a lot.
He's one of those people who enjoy life. I wish I could get him to smoke cigars, but he's too busy drinking beer and cheap wine. Oh ... and griping about the government. All the time. 
