Ben, hmmm, what can I say about the wonderful big brother that I have. Firstly, he is not completely perfect, whatever he may say about his worshippers who think he is God. They don't really. When Ben was not too young, before I was born, he knew that my parents had to sift weevils out of flour and other such substances in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. One day he pointed at a jar of mixed flour or something of the like, and said " Weebles in dere." He thinks this just makes him sweeter, but he is wrong!! I was trying to dig up some dirt on him, ( a not too difficult task if you are in his room), those of you who have entered his room have probably caught some viral infection from the air you breathed. However, when I asked my father about some embarrassing things that Ben had done, he was stuck. I groaned and asked if he had done anything wrong. Dad laughed and said" Are you joking? There are so many, I just can't think of any.


Ben has a horrible work of art in his room that is some sort of sculpture. It is squarish, made out of Papier-mache, and is a puke mixture of greens and browns. The thing has two hands that stick out on pole thingies and have triangular hands. It also has two eyeball-on-a-sticks. It is repulsive. If it were steaming, it would look like something a dog threw up. He called this thing fluffie or cutie or some name like that.


When Ben was about 18 months old, he was sitting on top of my father's shoulders and pointed and said "Ladies Walking." The fact that they were men, playing soccer didn't intimidate him.


Ben Bennett,