It’s funny some times how things make you smile. What is actually said and your own memories pulled from the depths make a great cocktail …

I have a good friend in Atlanta in the banking business … he joked that he “had a good 3rd and 4th quarter but will (probably) be laid off by Spring. As a fall-back, he was considering “starting a goat farm up in Blue Ridge, Georgia.” He invited me to come down and join in the enterprise, which sounded wonderfully tempting on my first reading of his note. After further consideration and following a rush of blurred memories, I declined.

My encounters with goats are mixed at best and I think sum to the negative. Recently, however, I was down in St Kitts and had some slow bar-b-qued goat ribs that were great ... tiny but delicious! … That is not just the white rum talking, they were tasty and cheap ... Goats were running all over the island like cats...

That pleasure was heavily offset by the vague recollection of a week I spent one night at the then famous Cadillac Bar and Grill in Dallas. The evening’s entertainment focused on a multiple course dinner of Tequila … and several side dishes of cabrito … a word in Tex-ican meaning greasy roasted goat ... for a digestif, I took a late-night shower with my suit on ... way late the next day and as they say, the boy "looked real bad.”

On balance, I want nothing more to do with goats but I am sure, should it come to it, that his business will be a raging success without me ... Rock on, Brother ... Hold the Tequila but set aside a rib or two for me ...