Gator’s Birthday

Here’s to our psychedelic new-age reptile poet, Gator (aka Ivan)–I think the only person I still know that I actually knew in high school! It is his birthday tomorrow, the 25th. It was great talking to you today on that old fasioned device, the telephone, Gator–even if my brain was off in some other astral plane and unable to maintain a conversational line.

Ye, godz, how old are you now anyway, Gator? Is this your third or fourth millennium? It certainly feels like eons to me since we were in high school. Several civilizations have arisen and fallen since we were busy learning how to carve cuneiform into mud tablets.

Here he is circa 2008 and 1992.



2 Responses to “Gator’s Birthday”

  1. Thankee, thankee. Long moons have passed since I first swept along the Nile or Limpopo, dining upon the unwary ‘neath the light of a gibbous monswollop. In fact, these days it’s a lucky thing if I can grab a bite or two from the one and only true.

    From babe to beard and back to babe. Life’s a funny thing.

    (And if Rowley’s reading, be assured you’re on tomorrow morn. I misplaced my updatery cord in the gymbag and only found it this aftereven, so it’s a Dark Compass for me on the road to ruin tomorrowly.)

  2. Happy birthday, bearded one.

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