If I were in my late 80s or 90s and writing a column today, I’m wondering if it would look something like this:
Boy, these kids today…with their intranets and computer machines and telephones they can carry around in their baggy jeans…well, let me tell you mister, they are going to be the ruin of this country.
When I was a kid, we did computin’ the old fashion way: with a pencil, eraser and ledger! We did mailin’ with an envelope, paper, pen and a stamp! We used a telephone that was attached to a wall! And our slacks were respectable because we used these things that stores apparently don’t sell these days: a belt or suspenders!
And let me tell you something else, mister. A baseball cap was worn by baseball players like Ted Williams or Mickey Mantle. And it was worn with the bill facing forward, not off to the side, or around the back. These kids look ridiculous with their hats like that! Where are their parents when these kids walk out the door looking like a malnourished, lop-side-headed delinquent? I’ll tell you where those parents are…well, hang on…where was I?
Oh, hell, I forget! See what you made me do!
And what’s with all that music blaring from their vehicles? Are they deaf or something?!? My hearing aid goes nuts with these hooligans pulling up next to me with that bumping and screaming music! I’m trying to listen to my Ray Conniff Singers 8-track tape, and then these kids pull up in their crazy looking vehicles Mommy and Daddy bought ‘em, and I can’t hear a damn thing! If Ray Conniff heard the nonsense devil music these kids are listening to, he’d really blow his top! I blame it on Elvis!
When I was their age, I was working 13 jobs! I was delivering milk at 3 in the morning! Then, I’d be rolling and throwing the newspaper! Then, I’d walk four miles to the bus stop for school! Then, I’d be laying brick – at school! Then, I’d walk to Harrisburg and pick cotton! Then, I’d I hunt and kill wild bears with my own two hands! Then, I’d skin the bear! Then, I’d butcher the bear! Then, I’d prepare the bear meat for winter! Then, I’d go ask my Daddy why we had to eat bear meat in the winter because bear meat is tough and somewhat bitter, and “He’d say, ‘Well, look at you. Mr. Rockefeller! What are you complaining about? When I was your age, I was working 24 jobs, and all we could eat was donkey! We’d only eat bear meat for special occasions! Yet, you get to eat it all winter! I swear, with kids like you, this country is doomed!’”
I miss my Daddy. He was killed in an unfortunate incident when he had drunk too much moonshine and bet his friends he had the strongest abs in the world. When he said, “Go ahead and run that steamroller over my abs and see what happens,” well, mister, his abs and other insides squished right out through his mouth and eyeballs and ears.
Now, see what you done did. You made me all weepy thinking about my Daddy and his unfortunate death by steamroller.
I like applesauce.
Where was I?
Oh…yeah. I tell you how I know for sure this country is doomed. You ever seen this Lady Gaga crazy woman? One day, my remote control to my Zenith became all messed up. There I was watching Lawrence Welk re-runs, and I had to lift up my bottom from my recliner to adjust my inflatable seat the doctor give me for my bottom problems, and the damn remote fell off and accidentally switched to some crazy insane picture movie with this Lady Gaga. She was wearing a wig made of telephones! Telephones! Mister: I’ve been a Democrat all my life, but this here Obana fella is allowing freaks like Lady Gaga to screw up my Zenith, and I tell ya, the country is going to hell because of it!
Oh. I’m tired. It’s already three in the afternoon, and I’m not even in my pajamas.
I best be getting ready for bed.
Thank you for reading, and pray for our country. Pray these kids these days get some sense knocked into their heads.
You know, when I was the age of these kids, I was working 24 jobs! I was delivering the paper at three in the morning! Then, I’d lay brick at the milk factory! Then, I kill a donkey for breakfast, but I always hated donkey meat because it was tough and somewhat bitter, and I’d complain to my Daddy, and he’d say, “Well, look at you. Mr. Rockefeller! What are you complaining about? When I was your age, I worked 13 jobs and all we could eat is bear!”
And…um…this was about the time of the unfortunate steamroller incident that took my Daddy’s life, and see…he had really strong abs…yawn…
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but last week’s “All Over the Map” was not my last. I’m still here.
I know this will surprise many of you, but that was an attempt at an April’s Fool joke. Yet, I was approached at least five or six times last week by reasonable adults who actually took the column seriously. Some people really thought I was going to quit my job, move to New York City and study to become a mime.
In the words of our President, let me be clear: I hate mimes. I want to punch them. Forget health care reform, our leaders should be discussing ways to outlaw friggin’ mimes.
I almost did punch a mime once. Years ago, I was walking with a bunch of folks on Bourbon St. in New Orleans. This mime comes up, starts doing his irritating mime crap, and most of us politely smile and keep on walking. The mime quickly walks ahead of us, stops us, and starts doing his irritating mime crap again. Now, only a couple of us politely smile, and we all walk around him while he’s still doing his irritating mime crap. Finally, he – again – walks ahead of us, stops us, and starts doing his irritating mime crap – this time in a more frustrated manner. Now, no one smiles. We are aggravated. We walk around him again.
And as he sees this, the mime commits the cardinal sin of mimes – he SPEAKS.
“S#@%,” he yells as we walk away. “You people are RUDE!”
No, I wanted to say. We just hate friggin’ mimes.
Speaking of irritating, I’ve found it’s very easy to irritate my 14-year-old daughter.
For instance, I’ve been picking up Hannah for and from school in my company vehicle. It’s a 10-year-old Chevy Suburban. The fact that it’s a Suburban doesn’t bother her. It’s the huge decals affixed to the side that read CLASSIC ROCK 93 KZLE that rankle her.
When I drop her off or pick her up in this rig, I have to be as far away from school as possible.
If I park within a football field’s length of the school entrance, I always get a comment from her like, “Uhhhhh, goooosssh! Dad!”
My music also irritates her. Classic Rock 93 KZLE is always playing in my vehicle. When she gets inside, usually the first thing she says – besides, “When are you getting a new car, Dad?” – is: “Put the radio on a station that plays good music.” Which is code for the pop station, 99.5 Hits Now.
Naturally, when she says this, I turn the radio to the country station, Arkansas 103.3 KWOZ.
“This one?” I’ll ask.
“Uhhhhh, goooossh! Dad! No!” she’ll say. “The station that plays the good music.”
“Oh, this one then,” I’ll say as I switch to the easy listening radio station.
I’ll click back to Classic Rock 93, and on and on it goes until she grabs the radio dial herself.
My comments on her Facebook page also seem to bother her. For instance, like most 14-year-old girls and my big brother, she’s into all things Justin Bieber. Bieber is the “hot” new teen-idol pop singer. She sings just about every Bieber song at full blast when they come across the radio and has posters and pictures of the guy all over her room.
So, when she posts about Bieber on Facebook, I’ll comment something like, “He is soooo dreamy!”
Sometimes I’ll get Hannah and all of her friends in a tizzy by commenting: “Sad news, girls. Justin Bieber has completed puberty and his voice is deep and completely off-key.”
Or: “Sad news, girls. Justin Bieber was killed today by a giant moose.”
Or (and this is my favorite): “Sad news, girls. Justin Bieber has just announced he’s coming out of the closet.”
Like I said, I can be very irritating to my daughter…somewhat like mimes are to me.
The difference, obviously, is I’m being irritating on purpose.
And people tell me I’m very good at doing such a thing.