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Billy Bob Jumpback

John W. Pinkerton


I talk to myself...a lot.  Lately myself has taken on a new persona.  He’s a little more hillbilly than what I’m used to, but he seems like a nice enough fellow.  Using his voice, I’m attaching the following little example.  If you need a name for “myself,” it might be Billy Bob Jumpback.

A Different Voice

Okay. There I was graduating from high school…a pretty big deal in my estimation.

LSU, the big college there in Louisiana, had just opened a a convenience store near where I lived. I just drove over there and signed up for some classes.

I enjoyed my time there at LSU at Alexandria.  I made great grades my first semester, but they dipped my second semester.  I got interested in other stuff like drinking beer and sleeping late. 

After two years they told me I had to get out.  I sure didn't want to go to work, so I was off to the main campus, the big kahuna, in Baton Rouge.  I was in high cotton now.

I did fine there.  One day when I was a junior, a fellow told me I had to pick a major…crap.  Okay, I really like philosophy, but on the other hand, I really liked English.  I stayed up all night fretting over this but came to a decision that still affects me even today---English it was.

In spite of my best efforts, I finally graduated.

It was a time that we were at war with a bunch of little yellow people in Viet Nam and Uncle Sam was real serious about the draft.  I volunteered for the draft which meant I only spent two years with these folks.  They gave me a sweetheart deal, a tour of Germany.

After two years and two months (a little stockade time), I was back home.  I had no other choices.  It was off to work.  Crap.