Well, I don’t know how to say this gracefully, but next month (July) there will be a cost of living increase in the price of Hoover whistles. It is still a joyful and partially profitable hobby that I would do for free, but…
To soften the blow and make this more palatable I’ve dug out of the archives a little poetry. I had lost it but my sister had a copy. I don’t want to recopy the whole thing so here’s just the last verse. I hope you get the jist!
The whistler, whose eye was bright,
Whose beard with age was hoar,
Is gone; and now at his behest;
His obsession is my chore,
(He went like he’d been shunned);
And I of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
I rose the morrow morn.
From “The Rime of the Ancient Whistler”
or
“Play it again Sam”
–Mack Hoover , sometime in the last 5 or six years, I don’t remember when–
With due respect to Samuel T. Coleridge
No, this is not an eulogy, and I’m not going anywhere. I just thought it was time for a little raise. I hope for more than raised eyebrows!
Mack the ancient whistler