Hi, there. It's Gordo here and I have a couple of things to get off my chest. I suppose you've read Tracey's letter about how we have to get Doctor Patterson out of our hair so we can trim some fat, said "fat" having recently married Liz. I knew deep-down that we'd have to buy them out sooner or later; I just didn't think it would be this soon. Y'see, I used to think of Doctor P as the father I was supposed to have back when I was young and stupid so it was kind of hard to contemplate pulling the trigger, so to speak. Now that I can see things a bit more clearly, it's easier to imagine a future free from him and his family. The only obstacle is his patronage of one Anthony Caine; the need to provide for his little girl is his way of making sure I have to listen to his suggestions. Fortunately for me, the little creep saw the handwriting on the wall that says "Get lost, jackass!!" He managed to get a job as a claims adjuster on the West Coast. That's right! After Christmas, he and Liz are heading to Vancouver and out of my life. That way, I can make it up to Tracey for having to bend over backwards for him last August. Sure, Mike is upset that Liz has to be uprooted but knowing that she isn't going to have to take a financial hit eases the pain. Plus, it's one less thing he has to worry about on the domestic front. It seems to me that the mess that his dad plopped in his lap (not snobbery) is what's keeping him from socializing more. I started to think that Doctor Patterson wasn't the man I thought he was when it dawned on me that he had no clue how damaging Anthony and Liz's testimony was to the prosecution's case; seeing him refuse to help Elly because he thinks he can talk her out of being insane confirms it. The last thing Mike needs is to have to support a kid sister who married a no-hoper. I'm not sure what happened last month but he and Deanna had to deal with something really awful so anything that takes stuff off his plate helps. It also helps that I won't have to look at Anthony any more. That's because I finally got Thérèse's side of the story; y'see, Tracey and I have been going to counseling since her bout with post-partum depression and guess who we met in the lounge last September. I would have fired the little fink on the spot the next day after I heard the crap he pulled but he's got a wife and one and a half kids. It's great not to have to be the bad guy.
Anyway, I've got to go tell Trace and Julia (who's way sharper than the pasty-faced shnook she's replacing) the good news. Later days!