Charm.

I just read a comment on an old post of mine. It came from a woman of whom I grew unaccountably fond, even though I never met her. It said ‘You could charm the horns off a rampaging rhino, Jeff.’

Well now, what is one to make of that? It seems to me that there are two kinds of charm: there’s the honest, natural, candid sort which slips out without artifice. And then there’s the other kind: the manufactured, disingenuous, slimy sort consciously designed to achieve some sort of nefarious end.

So if I am, or was, charming, to which sort may I honestly lay claim? How would I know? Could my Irish ancestry provide a clue? And does it matter anyway, since whatever charm I might or might not have possessed hitched a ride with the poor old diseased kidney three years ago and disappeared into whatever receptacle is the last resting place of diseased kidneys.

And a few too many birthdays haven’t helped… Bye for now.