- The Let’s go with something light today. Brother Theo and I have nightly discussions on current, and past events. Of late they have been a bit shorter, but usually the discourse can run two, or even three hours. These are “medicated” interviews as we will “pull a cork,” and work our way through various libations.
While some of the information contained therein is of a more serious nature, the majority of it addresses the absolute hilarity of the human condition. As politicians and various advocates for different causes take themselves oh so seriously, Theo and I have the ability to step back and look at the situations as they really are. We’ve considered recording these phone calls for a podcast, but due to the language barrier the amount of editing required would prove to be exhausting. We call a spade a spade, and in this present politically correct world that would surely draw the ire of of the more socially conscious observers. Oh, and by the way, some of the subjects I touch on here may rub some the wrong way. Lighten up! Get a life! This is the very reason these numbskulls get away with a lot of this. Nobody wants to talk about it. I talk about it. All that having been said, I give you a snippet of some of our considerations during our extended cocktail hours.
Concern over global warming, pollution, and the concern for the species would seem safe ground for even a talk at a British gentlemen‘s club you would think. Au Contrairé! As Texans, we would rather eat a spotted owl than preserve it. Should we run out of spotted owls, we’d just switch off to brisket. We know we would never run out of cows. What intrigues us is the concern for critters most of us would never see, and cannot understand what they do that’s so irreplaceable that man must move heaven and earth to preserve them.
The Tiger is an excellent example. Now we appreciate an orange cat with stripes, but understandably we already HAVE orange cats with stripes running up and down every alley in America, so what sense does it make wasting money and labor to protect this thing that has no qualms about eating people. The cavemen killed off the wooly mammoth, didn’t they? We still have elephants. Wooly Mammoth with a haircut! Just stuff the last one and put it in a museum for all the kiddos to see. Now Theo, being liberal, says if they wanna see a big orange predator, just go to the White House.
Or some creature so remote that anthropologists at Yale haven’t seen one, yet some chick in California will chain herself to a flagpole and swear to God she’ll never have sex with her girlfriend again until there is a federal mandate protecting this spiny little bastard, no matter how many people lose their jobs in the process. Or that nasty face S. O. B. at the bottom of the Mariana Trench! Greenpeace wants to save it. Why? Does it eat catfish? Interesting point; have you ever noticed that the things we eat, there never seems to be a shortage of? Big Macs come to mind.
Ugly white women senators. I must note that Greenpeace is not trying to preserve them, showing there is hope for the world yet. Also, have you ever noted that women who are pro-choice are women you wouldn’t want to have sex with anyway? Feinstein and Pelosi come to mind. Whoopi Goldberg? In fact ALL of the women on The View, but I digress. I know, I know, Whoopi isn’t a senator, but she thinks she is. The last time I saw something that looked like that Arnold Swartzenegger was calling it an ugly . . .
Chris Hansen. Now Chris alone is not funny, but all the Jackalopes showing up with a six pack and a case of rubbers sure are. And it’s almost always a thirteen year old girl. Theo’s a psychologist, and he thinks the number thirteen has some significance here. The most extreme is my favorite. The idiot that showed up, got naked in the garage, came in with a CAT! You can’t make this stuff up, folks. Naturally, Theo’s trying to psychoanalyze this nut, but I’m too busy laughing. Frankly, I can’t connect the dots here, and if I did it would worry me. You might note that no naked men with cats are showing up in Whoopi’s garage, just saying.
I drive a Mercedes SLK. I buy cigarettes at a convenience store right across the street from a high school. Price is higher than HEB, but there’s this cute clerk, and well, you know. Anyway, I almost always drive around with the top down and go by the store practically every day. Mix a high end sports car with high end school girls and you’ll get octane, even if you’re an old fart like me. So one day I pulled in and here they came, like moths drawn to a flame. One girl, a very fetching young black girl (that’s important, work with me on this) came over admiring my car. She asked if she could have a ride back to the high school. Her hand was laying on my door. I stoked her hand and said, “ Well, you could, but there’s something wrong with your skin.” Now, you know where this is going, right. Black chick, skin? She narrowed her eyes and asked, “ What’s wrong with my skin?” I told her, “Your skin is sixteen years old.” That’s a normal responsible response, and if you will note, I didn’t have a cat in the car with me. At sixty-six years old, I don’t have twenty-five to life left. Buy cigarettes, go home, drink whiskey, and talk to Brother Theo. The punishment is much less severe!
Finally, committee hearings in DC. Wanna trim the budget? Put both houses of Congress on minimum wage, and make them work a forty hour week. Outrageous you say. I say, soda straw law. I know that’s California, but I’ve noticed that SoCal usually proceeds the rest of the country in economics, traffic, law, practically everything. It starts there and spreads out across the country like a flu virus. I’m convinced that the first Tide Pod eaten was consumed in Hollywood.
If Congress had to work for a living we’d get a lot more bang for the buck. First off, they’d start the day actually trying to get something done, and look forward to the weekend just like the rest of us. Also, when some ugly white woman senator suggests calling in the FBI to investigate events at a frat party back in 1986 you tell them that’s very fine, but now they have to work overtime and Sundays for six weeks. But, they WILL get time and a half! Talk about clearing the schedule. You’d be lucky to get the rape of the Sabine women to the floor.
There’s much more, but suffice to say the ratio of serious concerns as opposed to comedy relief is decidedly slanted toward the script of a Cheech and Chong movie. Don’t take these people seriously folks. It takes just as many brain cells to consider Social Security as is does to contemplate the sex life of a yellow bellied sap sucker, which, in my opinion, became the national bird under the Obama administration. Peace out!
The Butcher Shop