“I’m what Cain was to Able…”

 

In an 1896 article Wyatt Earp said that ‘Doc was a dentist, not a lawman or an assassin, whom necessity had made a gambler; a gentleman whom disease had made a frontier vagabond; a philosopher whom life had made a caustic wit; a long lean, ash-blond fellow nearly dead with consumption, and at the same time the most skillful gambler and the nerviest, speediest, deadliest man with a six-gun that I ever knew.’

 

As long as I can remember, my hero has been Doc Holliday.

Truth be told, if I could go back in time, my handle would have been that.

But, at the time, I felt it too presumptuous, so I chose Ace of Spades.

Close enough.

 

Which brings me to my point:

I won’t be going to meet folks in Vegas.

 

This is because I gambled [as is my nature] and lost.

Big.

Granted, the deck was stacked against me.

But I’m an outlaw.

Born and bred.

 

If this kills what [little] cred I have in the ‘sphere:

I accept it.

Depression [disease] induced or not:

My choices are mine.

And I own them.

 

However, I will point out:

I’ve never deceived anyone.

I’ve shared what I’ve learned to be True.

I’ve never asked for a dime.

I’ve made sure that all the mistakes I’ve made – and they are innumerable – have been analyzed so that others may benefit.

If nothing else:

I serve as an inapproachable bad example.

 

Why do I do such a thing?

Especially since I’ve said I could not care less about hit counts.

Or popularity.

Or notoriety.

 

The answer is easy:

I was born a deeply flawed sinner.

And this is my path to redemption.

 

I’m no better than you.

So learn from what I say.

And be better than I.

 

Say goodbye to me. Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty from it, don’t look back. Live every second. Live right on to the end. Live Wyatt. Live for me. Wyatt, if you were ever my friend, if you ever had even the slightest of feelin’ for me, leave now. Leave now… Please.

 

 

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