For some reason I haven’t had a best friend since I was I kid and I still don’t have a soul mate. When I lived in Jackson Heights Earl was my best friend. Then I moved to Lindenhurst around the time I turned twelve years old. For my first few years over there Jimmy was my best friend. After a couple of years he and his family moved to Arizona, and eventually ended up in California. Both Earl’s and Jimmy’s birthdays are on Halloween. In case anyone’s interested in filling either of those positions I’m quite free. It would help if any prospective best friend could provide guaranteed proof of a Halloween birthday. Best friends are supposed always to be available for each other’s various adventures, both serious and casual, happy and sad. Having read Miguel de Cervantes’ “Don Quijote” a few times by now, I can see that it’s the obvious prototype for all sorts of best friend stories. On Facebook I’m a member of a page for fans of Neil Simon’s “The Odd Couple” and one for fans of “The Honeymooners”. Best friends get to have a lot of lopsided adventures, like the Don and Sancho, Felix and Oscar, and Ralph and his pal Norton. Best friends get to have a lot of stupid obnoxious misadventures in common and to blame each other for everything. They have inside jokes and a language of their own. Although each of them gets to have other friends and connections in general their specific relationship at all times must take precedence. In each of the specific friendships I’ve referred to here, there’s a horrendously lopsided kind and degree of dysfunctionality in each individual that is incessantly forced to do battle with all the quirks of the other. Best friends get to rankle incessantly upon each other’s nerves. Norton, to Ralph’s undying chagrin, always plays “Swanee River” at the beginning of each song. Felix torments Oscar with incessant whining whenever his socks and underwear aren’t precisely alphabetized. Don Quijote nudges Sancho about his precise duties as a squire. Everyone should get to have a best friend. Ever since “Laverne and Shirley”, I’ve always thought that Lenny and Squiggy were the title characters’ masculine counterparts. That made for such a very interesting contrast. It’s too bad I don’t have a best friend now. I most certainly appear to have quite a significantly lopsided enough approach to life for some unsuspecting good natured character to be able to play off of so very well.