Mr. Copper's Neighborhood

"Mr. Copper?"
"Yes."
"I'm just calling to see if I'm still in the will."

It's my old pal Dwayne Taylor calling from Denver. "Sideshow" Dwayne and I worked for the same radio station about ten years ago here in San Diego. The station, K_BEST, is one I remember fondly because of great people like Dwayne who were in the harness with me. As I recall, he left for Denver of his own volition about twelve years ago. I, on the other hand, stayed just long enough to get fired in 1998. (Seventeen stations on my resume and only four firings. I've always had good timing.)

As we caught up with each other, Dwayne now works for a sports talk station in Denver, (Jesus, talk about a damn death watch!),I couldn't help but think how lucky I've been to have such good friends in my life. I don't have many...but the quality of my posse is beyond reproach. My brother, Steve, attributes this to the uncanny propensity of the Copper men to reduce most everyone to two categories. For us it's either: "He's okay." OR "He's a prick."
Don't knock it. It works.
It also greatly reduces the odds of casual acquaintances attempting to sell you insurance or Amway products.

Anyway...Where was I?
Oh yeah, ...friends and how great it is to have good ones. I really expected to make some new ones when Linda and I moved into our new neighborhood two years ago. We initially were surrounded by young couples with cute little kids and they all seemed to be passing muster with the old Copper "okay/prick" test. I base this on having lived next door to some world class "okay" neighbors over the years AND some interplanetary "non okay" types too. (I won't name any names but Bill and Rita and Dennis and Meredith are in the "okay" column.)

Now, two years hence, I find that we have chased off all of the young couples with kids and are now surrounded by middle-aged people even creepier than we are. The only neighbor I've met is the guy next door who has left his house maybe once this year. I think his name is Jay and he claims to be a day trader, which we all know is code for "unemployed". I know he still lives there because every once in a while I notice that my morning paper has been stolen.

So, what I'm thinking is that perhaps you might be interested in buying old Jay's place and becoming my next door neighbor. After all you must be "okay". You're reading this aren't you?
If Jay really is a day trader, he surely hanged himself earlier this week and you can probably pick-up the joint for a song and an out of town two party check.

Won't you be my neighbor?