Thus Spaketh Jumpoff Joe
Near the Fake Forum: He had a nightmare that Steve Lawrence tried to run him over in a Fiat Panda. That led to a series of poor predictions and Jumpoff Joe had to quit the oracle business to sell BMWs on Serramonte Boulevard in San Francisco. Near Baker beach a panda swam ashore and stole Joe’s tuna fish on rye. Joe cautioned young and old about the swimming panda menace before settling down to write a memoir.
A PANDA SWIMMING is Joe’s story told from the point of view of a man who sees things that others don’t, a man possessed with a knowledge so great that there isn’t room in Golden Gate Park for joggers and this knowledge to be in the park at the same time. Joe knew this. That’s why he stayed away from the park even when hot dog vendors showed up and Joe was really hungry. He knew. The more he knew the bigger the problem became: soon it was larger than Marin County. Joe fled north. Down Mexico way. Joe fled south. Down Mexico way. He forgot a few things and the problem shrank; he headed north again, maybe east. North north east. Rolled into Dallas on a hot summer morning and rented a room, a garret, and a spacious studio. He took up painting and became famous.
Then it all came crashing down. A panda on an Indian Scout came to town. Joe couldn’t paint anymore. He couldn’t wild cat for oil anymore. He couldn’t eat rocky road ice cream that he didn’t order anymore. A friend asked, “Hey, Joe, where you going with that panda in your hand?”
A PANDA SWIMMING by Jumpoff Joe. They say people don’t read anymore. Find out why.