Why I Love Larry David

I have a few friends.

Not too many close ones though.  About five.  And I don’t even tend to them very well.  They are left, mostly to look after themselves, and pick up where we left off, whenever we find each other.  Somehow they are a bit like my tomato plant- I got it from The Worst Shop in the World, for two bucks, stabbed it into the Smallest Patch of Sandy Dirt in the World, and it hung in there.  Still.  Neglected?  Oh yeah.  Bearing fruit?  Double yeah.  You are my kinda friend plant, tomato.

One of my five died this year.  I have written about it a bit.  Less than I’ve wanted to, but more than Regular Readers probably have wanted me too.

For a while I thought I might try and find somebody new, to boost the membership, fill the space perhaps, but the hole is too big for me to reasonably expect anyone to fill it.  Plus, I think I like the wound open.  Maybe I’m a bit like those kids who cut themselves, the pain makes the pain a bit less.  Or something.

Anyway, I was thinking about friends, and time, and how much we have available to allocate to each, and I remembered this episode of Curb, one of the funniest shows ever made.  You are one clever/silly/annoying/cringeworthy/hilarious man Larry David, and here, you speaketh the truth.