Bill Gates is paying off Nigeria’s 76-million dollar debt to Japan and it all began with an email from a ‘Nigerian prince.’

The four of us sat and chatted for another hour, Mandi without her top, until the coffee was gone and our tongues tired. I excused myself after offering to help clean up and being refused, and returned to my little spot in the sand.

After dozing on and off for a couple of hours, I grabbed up my soap and waded into the lake to wash up. As I came back to camp, I noticed on one of the nearby bushes an orange life-preserver with a note duct-taped to it, reading: “You shouldn’t be on the water without one. Be safe. Beth and Neil.”

Had I missed it earlier or had they come back to leave this for me? Either way, I thought at the time that it was one of the sweetest things I ever been given – someone wanted me to live.

Hot dogs and hamburgers, that’s what Trig and Andi served for dinner that evening. Mandi came over and invited me. Surprisingly, she had a full tee-shirt and hiking shorts on.

It took me a bit, but I finally opened up about myself, telling the trio about my recent troubles, then making them laugh as I described my even more recent exploits. I also told them that I would probably be gone by the time the sun woke up. None of them seemed surprised at the announcement.

A couple of hours later, I retired to my sleeping bag and slept well on a full-stomach and a full-heart as I tucked my newly acquired life-preserver under my head and used it as a pillow. Unfortunately, morning came far too quickly and it was time after two days, to put out into the lake and head for the opening of the Colorado River.

If it hadn’t been for my debilitated straw hat, the merciless sun would have burned my brains from between my ears. I had pulled my tee-shirt off earlier in the day, keeping the preserver on, and because of this I’d developed a harsh burn on my back.

“That’s what the fuck you get for not thinking,” I chided, as I guided the canoe towards the embankment.

The sun was low in the sky to my right and I decided it was time to set up camp. I found a small alcove of sand and beached the canoe. I dragged it up behind a gathering of large rocks and set up a quick camp.

After a bowl of rice and beans, washed down with weak coffee, I headed up the rocky hillside to do some exploring. After a half-hour walk further down river, I found an obstacle that I had no idea existed; the Parker Dam. I had to decide at that moment whether I should attempt to portage the dam immediately or wait until morning.

“No time like the present,” I told myself as I located a place to put in once I made it around the dam.

It was well after dark when I finally finished my move. I rolled out my sleeping bag, laid down, falling asleep the moment my head ‘hit the pillow.’

It was long after the sun had set that I awakened to a heavy rainfall. Being along the river bank, I knew I could be in potential danger, so I grabbed everything and stuffed it in the canoe, and dragged the mass up the rocky hillside.

Once there, soaking wet and a somewhat perturbed at ‘Mother Nature,’ I climbed under the overturned canoe, which I had propped up against a wall of rocks meant as a boundary, and pulled my sleeping bag over me. I dosed on and off until the shower subsided, then I slept solidly for a couple of hours.

With my sunburned back, my rib-cage still sore from all the paddling, and everything I owned soaked, I concluded that my best bet was to let my gear dry out before putting back out into the river. It was while laying my stuff out to dry that I realized my boots were missing. All I had were a pair of ratted-out tennis shoes and a pair of shower sandals.

“Probably clear down Mexico way,” I moaned as I wandered up and down the river bank, hoping to see them. I thought that by tying the laces to an empty plastic jug I found, they’d remain afloat and easier to find if gone overboard. I was quick to surrender them to ‘the whatever’ that had them now.

Poor Thomas’ Almanac for December 24: Today is International Gristle Day. I know it’s a tough one to chew and even tougher to swallow.

My neighbor likes his cars like he likes his women — old and leaking.

Never let a good fart go to shit.

So much for 2018 as I can no longer mark myself as safe from ‘Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer.’

Here’s my guide to government shutdowns: has the IRS stopped taking money out of your paycheck? No? Then the government isn’t really shutdown.”

Life was coming awake around the entire lake. My neighbors, on the other side from me where up and about; a young man, his girlfriend and her younger sister. It was the sister, Mandi who came splashing out to where I was treading water.

She swam a couple of circle’s around me, giggling like some school girl’s do, before swimming back and wading ashore naked. She turned and smiled at me as she grabbed a towel from the ground and headed out of sight.

“Nope,” I told myself, “Fifteen will get you life. Time to go.”

“Hey, mister,” I heard the young man call. My heart stopped for an instant as my guilty mind kicked in crying, “But, I didn’t do anything!”

Then he said, “My sis says you haven’t had breakfast. Come on over. Coffee’s on, too.”

As I walked up the bank, I debated whether to say ‘no’ or not, but my desire for food and coffee won out and I pulled on my tee-shirt and headed to their encampment.

“I’m Trig,” he said as he held out his hand. My immediate thought was, “Who the hell names their kid ‘Trig?” Later I found out that he was half-Eastern Indian on his mom’s side and his full first name was Trigya.

Trig’s girlfriend’s name was Andi. I couldn’t help but turn red when I shook her hand, knowing what her little sister had done a few minutes before. And I had to fight off a chuckle when told the younger one’s name.

“Andi and Mandi,” I thought as I shook my head, “Parents.”

Before I knew it, I had a plate full of scrambled eggs, country-style potatoes and five pieces of bacon, with a cup of hot coffee. Turns out that Trig was a culinary student in Riverside and was a semester away from graduating.

As I ate my breakfast and listened to the couple talking, I couldn’t help but notice Mandi. She was a real cock-tease, sitting slightly behind Andi and Trig and flashing her breasts at me. I did my best not to look, but I seemed to notice her every time she lifted her half-tee.

Andi was completing her first year of nursing school. “I find the Latin to be harder than the actual hands-on training,” she complained as she sipped her coffee. I told her how I’d worked in the medical field at one time and that I understood the frustration of memorizing Latin names of body parts, words you’ll only use once or twice in one’s career.

Finally, Mandi removed her top, saying, “It’s too warm to be wearing clothing.”

“Put you’re shirt back on or go get your bikini top,” Andi demanded.

“And if I don’t?” Mandi asked in defiance.

“Then I’ll tell Trig not to let you drive on the way home,” her sister answered.

Mandi stood, stretched then spun, displaying a black swimming thong that left her butt-cheeks bare, before proudly announced, “I got my driver’s license last week!”

“Good for you,” I responded, feeling a bit more at ease as I checked out her body. She smile blew me a kiss without using her hand and disappeared into the small trailer.

“You’ve got yourself a little nudist there,” I said.

“Yeah,” Andi added, “A horny little nudist that’s gonna end up preggers before she’s outta high school.”

“That’s a pretty sad statement coming from her sister,” I replied.

Feeling uneasy about the current subject, Trig changed the subject, asking, “How long are you going to be here?”

“I don’t know,” I heard myself answer.

Earlier, I had made up my mind to put out before noon-time. “Why the hell did I say that?” I heard my inner voice question.

The anti-Second Amendment movement continues to go after guns, this time with the sanctioned the help of the National Collegiate Athletic Association, by targeting university and high school sport-shooting team competition. It also appears the movement has gone ‘anti-women,’ in its latest victory.

The NCAA is slowly ending all Division I rifle teams within the collegiate-system, including the University of Nevada-Reno. The Wolf Pack rifle team had been active since the early 1900’s and consisted mostly of females.

This decision comes as a surprise to many at the school, as UNR’s rifle program had won more NCAA championships than any other sport at the university. Further, the move comes on the heel’s of a recently announced plan by the school to build a new 33,000 square foot shooting range and training facility.

There are plans to develop a non-NCAA shooting team in the future at the university. In a message from Athletic Director Doug Knuth to the Alumni, he writes: “The university will start an ASUN (Associated Students of the University of Nevada) sponsored club rifle team to provide an opportunity for current and future students to participate in the sport.”

With the loss of the Wolfpack’s team, there are only 22 NCAA Division I rifle programs remaining in the U.S.  UNR plans to replace the shooting team with a cross-country in the Fall of 2019.

Poor Thomas’ Almanac for December 22: In 1885, the roller coaster was patented. Without it we wouldn’t know what a once-eaten hot-dog looks like.