Barnes is skin-bone.  His rib-revealing torso rests precariously on spindle legs and feet too small to traverse the shadow of his balding head.  How Barnes got to be in this pitiable shape seems to be a mystery.  It is a well documented fact that Barnes’ daily caloric intake equals that of a collegiate football lineman and yet he gains not one ounce.  Some think Barnes fell ill sometime in the past and never quite recovered, but Barnes swears that his life is one of perpetual health.

Barnes is often overlooked in conversation.  Even when in close proximity and part of an animated group, Barnes is invisible unless one is standing face-to-face.  Barnes has far fewer friends than he thinks he does.  Most of the time Barnes’ needs and opinions are ignored by those not directly vested in trying to help Barnes.

Some think Barnes is Don Knotts reincarnated, but that cannot be true since Barnes’ eyes are set deep in their sockets and Mr. Knotts’ eyes were bugged.  Mr. Knotts’ stage voice was strained and pitched high.  Barnes’ voice is a deep and resonant bass; so low it is often difficult to separate the syllables within the sentences.  He should demand respect with just his voice but he speaks so slowly that boredom soon sets in and the listener daydreams or ignores Barnes all together.

I have made it my personal mission to see what can be done to build up Barnes.  It is simply wrong to have at hand the enormous resources of this fine land in which we reside and to see one of my neighbors suffer in this manner.  I am carefully researching what kind of solutions may be applicable to his condition and will happily share the results if they turn positive.

I have invited my friends at Main Street to join me.