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Author Harlan Ellison once dropped me a postcard remarking that my mind “works like a demented cuckoo clock.”
Sentimental fool that I am, a recent change in my son’s extracurricular activities was like an early Christmas gift.
I’m not a doctor. I don’t even play one in newspapers. (So, relax, Rex Morgan, M.D. But look out, big-nosed kid who likes to fly his Sopwith Camel in search of the Red Baron. You’ve got competition.)