Someone Must've Pinched My Front Legs Off

Here in the office, on Christmas Eve Eve, it's just me and the crickets. Wes Phillips, man of many links, tells me that crickets are known to shed a leg if they get caught in a sticky situation, but only if they have had sex first.

Somewhere in there is a metaphor for my life. But I'm not going to work it out right now.

Only moments ago, JA rang in from the road. I recognized his number on the caller ID.


I haven't seen or heard from the dude all week. The transit strike has kept him at bay. Bay Ridge, that is. So, this is a phone call I'm happy to receive.

"Stephen, it's me: John."
"Yo, JA. What's up?"
"I'm just heading back to New York from Rhode Island where I picked up an amp from John Marks."
"Is the office closing early today?"
"Yeah. There's no one here, anyhow. It's just me and the crickets."
"Okay. The drive back to New York is about four hours, so I won't be coming into the office."
"You'll be spending Christmas with your mom?"
"And she'll be giving you socks, right?"
"Yes, lots of socks."
"Good. Merry Christmas, Stephen."
"Merry Christmas, John."


Happy Holidays, everyone. I hope you all have someone to hug.