Okay, this is fluff. I read the newspaper every day, having gotten into the habit when I was a newscarrier from th ages of 13-20. (See, this newsletter thing is just another link in a long chain.) Over breakfast, my eyes happened to rest on an obituary for a local man who had died. What caught my eye was the description "Well known snake handler." (He was a respected herpetologist, so this sounds more like a scientific study thing, as opposed to a circus act.) I am certain that he was a wonderful guy, and much missed by his family, but the prefix of "well known" to "snake handler" struck me as amusing for some twisted/perverse reason.
I visualized an unknown, deeply bitter snake handler bemoaning the lack of recognition in his crowded field of interest. "Yeah, and the time I did that triple backflip rattler bit, with the coral snake crossover THEN a boa constrictor triple loop, not a DAMN mention in the trade papers, nor a call from Snake World magazine. Lousy bastards!" (Grinds out stale cigarette, air filling with regrets and disappointment.)
Another "I don't remember taking LSD, but my, that would certainly explain a lot" moment, which my life seems to be replete with.
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