A dream ending

This series of irreverent interloping ends as it began, on a Tuesday with a promise of humour.

My first column ('There's no 'u' without me in humour', August 12, 2009) closed with the following promise:

"... I will revive real humour. I will not deliver any pedantic, political or religious lectures. To this end, I'll need your help. Anytime you see me lapsing into self-importance, any sign of a patronising tone, please fire off a warning email. Socks will immediately be gripped and pulled up. Your wish will be my command ... ."

Over these six years, I've tried to keep my Readers' Digest promise of laughter, especially at myself, being the best medicine. Where I've fallen short, I apologise. Life is too temporary and we're too fallible to take either too seriously.

As the time for me to pack my bags and go approached, I've had recurring nightmares about how what classic movies simply called 'The End' would turn out.

We'll meet again.

Don't know where, don't know when.

But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.

In these dreams, many sent goodwill messages, starting with the Khooky Khast of Kharacters from my teenage domino days.

 

gully expedition

 

Gene Autry: "Hog, I still can't believe that, for six years, you've had the nerve to publicly call Karen the 'Old Ball and Chain'. What a gully expedition this has been! Don't stop now. If you're tired, put your head under the kitchen pipe, run cold water on it, wake up, and start again."

GR: I tried that, Gene. There's no water in the pipe.

Keep smiling through,

just like you always do,

till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.

The Dunce: Pardi, me still a walk street an' kick stone. Yu no worry 'bout nutten. If a macca, mek it jook yu!

GR: Watch out for flying dominoes, Dunce.

The Beast: You did what I was 'fraid to do - try. Go deh, GR.

GR: Don't have regrets, Beast!

So will you please say hello

to the folks that I know?

Tell them I won't be long.

They'll be happy to know

that, as you saw me go,

I was singing this song.

In my dreams, goodwill messages flooded in from many.

 

Good riddance

 

Booklist Boyne: Good riddance to bad rubbish. Yu always tek step wid me because I boast about the books I read, but all you ever do is boast about the songs you know. Hypocrite!

GR: I'm so excited. Booklist is talking about me. Yay!

Saint Shirley: Thank yu, Jesus, my prayers are answered. One less gay lover promoting sin. Hallelujah!

GR: Wow, Saint Shirley praying for me. I'm SAVED!

Cliff Hughes: I didn't have relations with that station. It was only oral. Oops, wha' yu sey? Dis supposed to be a farewell message to Gordon Robinson? Well, screw him! He's a d**k!

GR: I can't stand all this love. (sob)

We'll meet again.

Don't know where, don't know when,

but I know we'll meet again some sunny day.

Even politicians flocked my nightmare.

Omar Davies: Well, you proved you like music and dominoes. I give classes in both on Fridays. You're invited.

Horace Chang: I've repeatedly challenged you to dominoes in my constituency but you never turn up. Yu can run, but yu can't hide!

Andrew Holness: Stop calling me 'young'. I'm an experienced political leader. Anyway, I glad yu stop because me no want you writing after JLP win de election.

Portia Simpson Miller: "Gordon who?"

The last word goes to Old BC: "Finally! Now maybe he'll leave the house and get a job!"

We'll Meet Again (music by Ross Parker; lyrics, Hugh Charles) was first recorded in 1939 by Dame Vera Lynn and served as inspiration for British soldiers heading to World War II. It's been frequently covered, but my favourite appears as the last cut on Johnny Cash's final album.

Before bolting, I must thank my Gleaner family, beginning with former opinion editor Colin Steer, who spotted what he believed was talent and roped me in. He often regretted it when receiving columns from what he called "the other Gordon" instead of the serious commentator he thought he'd recruited. The current opinion editor, AndrÈ Wright, thanks for navigating my many idio(t)syncracies with a smile. Special thanks to Editor-in-Chief Garfield Grandison, without whose unwavering support from the beginning and unhesitating flexibility, despite staid Gleaner traditions, I'd not have lasted a month; and Managing Editor Jenni Campbell who (above all) understood me and my purpose and consistently encouraged both.

Peace and love.

- Gordon Robinson is an attorney-at-law. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.