Tripping at the Store
My old man was a mystery wrapped in an enigma enshrouded in a big, fat, thick-sliced slab of WTF pinned down with a toothpick.
I tried at times to understand him as I'm sure he tried at times to figure out why in hell he had ever been motivated to conceive me. After all, his serious and sober world was now and would forever be polluted by this loud little insane creature. It wouldn't even ever grow up. It just got stranger and stranger as it got older.
He didn't really have a good sense of humor. In fact I doubt he had any. There were times when you could sense a bit of levity, when he was somewhat mirthful and in a good mood. Perhaps he had just seen something that cheered him up, like a dwarf getting hit by a bus.
"Heh heh heh. Look at ze little vun!"
Beyond that, not much. I think he had two jokes to his name. Both were those corporate speech ice breakers from the fifties and sixties that may be somewhat clever but that even he botched. Here's one in its original form:
The new guy at Zenith, after six weeks on the job, wonders why his nameplate isn't on his office door. His boss tells him, "Around here, the quality goes in before the name goes on."
I'll wait for you to change into a dry pair of pants. And if you don't get the Zenith reference, don't worry. Its not important and you, unlike me, have a lot more life ahead of you.
Here's the old man's joke:
The new guy at Zenith wants his name on his office door.
"No, you're a lazy bum." His boss says.
Yep, he could have been the motivational speaker at Jonestown with that one.
Later in life, his mind started to go, slowly at first and then quicker when the chemical cocktail he was on got him higher than most of the kids I went to high school with. I remember one evening when I actually got him to take a drive with me. It amazing what you'll do when you have no fucking idea of what's going on.
We went to a local Home Depot. He needed wood putty and I wanted to look at some power tools that could drown the wife at the time out.
He got what he wanted, I picked up some brochures and we left. Out in the parking lot, he pulls the unpaid for putty out of his pocket. He had forgotten putting it there.
Great. I try to bond. You shoplift. How's that for a moment?
Bunny on.
I tried at times to understand him as I'm sure he tried at times to figure out why in hell he had ever been motivated to conceive me. After all, his serious and sober world was now and would forever be polluted by this loud little insane creature. It wouldn't even ever grow up. It just got stranger and stranger as it got older.
He didn't really have a good sense of humor. In fact I doubt he had any. There were times when you could sense a bit of levity, when he was somewhat mirthful and in a good mood. Perhaps he had just seen something that cheered him up, like a dwarf getting hit by a bus.
"Heh heh heh. Look at ze little vun!"
Beyond that, not much. I think he had two jokes to his name. Both were those corporate speech ice breakers from the fifties and sixties that may be somewhat clever but that even he botched. Here's one in its original form:
The new guy at Zenith, after six weeks on the job, wonders why his nameplate isn't on his office door. His boss tells him, "Around here, the quality goes in before the name goes on."
I'll wait for you to change into a dry pair of pants. And if you don't get the Zenith reference, don't worry. Its not important and you, unlike me, have a lot more life ahead of you.
Here's the old man's joke:
The new guy at Zenith wants his name on his office door.
"No, you're a lazy bum." His boss says.
Yep, he could have been the motivational speaker at Jonestown with that one.
Later in life, his mind started to go, slowly at first and then quicker when the chemical cocktail he was on got him higher than most of the kids I went to high school with. I remember one evening when I actually got him to take a drive with me. It amazing what you'll do when you have no fucking idea of what's going on.
We went to a local Home Depot. He needed wood putty and I wanted to look at some power tools that could drown the wife at the time out.
He got what he wanted, I picked up some brochures and we left. Out in the parking lot, he pulls the unpaid for putty out of his pocket. He had forgotten putting it there.
Great. I try to bond. You shoplift. How's that for a moment?
Bunny on.
posted by The Caustic Bunny at Wednesday, April 18, 2012
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