Well, Diary, it’s been a month now, and a whole lot has changed.  My life has relaxed quite a bit, at least as compared to the year leading up to the election.  Oh sure, everyone is so supportive, “You’ll be able to focus on the things you love!”  they say.  Well, my friends, you can’t spend every waking hour of your life focused on prune juice and Vietnamese hookers.  Trust me, I’ve tried.  It leads to regular bowel movements and regular shots of penicillin, and at my age regularity really isn’t that important.  My friend, I’d rather shit my pants in public just to get back on C-Span.  Regularity doesn’t make headlines. Look at Sarah Palin. There isn’t a regular bone in her maverick body… Although, there was once, but that was during the prune obsession and I’d rather not discuss it. She tried to give me an “Alaskan Pipeline” look it up… I don’t know what they are doing up there in the great white north, but I can tell you if I had been elected president I would have sold that thing back. Gross. That’s all.

Well, anyway, I figure it’s time to start over again.  You know.  Stick a spur in my maverick and make some slightly non-conformist decisions. I don’t want to go too far fringe. All I need is Sean Hanity poking around with softball questions.  It’s like being interviewed by a middle school newspaper reporter. For that reason, I’ve started taking yoga classes.  Coincidentally, my friend, this is why I had to quit the prunes.  There is a lot of stretching in those classes.  But, the class is taught by a cute little Korean girl.  Namaste.  I’ll tell you what diary, that would have been the war to be in, forget ‘Nam, send me to Seoul.

With my new found energy from the the yoga I’ve also started experimenting in new vocations.  Now listen, my friend, I’ve never been the most eloquent orator, but where does that get you?  Other than the white house?  Nowhere.  So I’ve decided to use my words for good.  I’ve started writing a series of children’s books called “Johnny The Maverick”.  They’re, of course, loosely based off of different mavericky escapades of my life.  It can give that working man something to read with his boy, over a cold Schlitz, something that they can both aspire to.  I’ve decided to publish them under a pseudonym, after much thought, I’ve settled on “Reynold the Writer.”  Of course all good books need to be illustrated so I’ve enlisted the help of “Arty the Artist.”  Before you know it, this country is going to be brimming with Mavericks, just you wait.

My friend, I know this probably all sounds so crazy, but I know what I’m doing.  You don’t get the name Maverick without taking some chances.  Trust me, I’ve eaten at Hardee’s and devoured the Monster Thick Burger.  Not even the prunes could make regular that cube of cow flesh, but that’s where my little Cambodian nurse comes in.  My friend, she filmed the procedure and titled it “Enema Of The State.”  But I digress.

Next week I’m going to try sushi. If you’re starting over, what better place than your diet?  Plus I hear they have some little Japanese waitresses… Sake it to me my friend.

Your Friend,
Johnny Mav