The Weekly Notes 2008
|
|||
|
Back
to the Weekly Notes 2008 Archives News: I did not feel much like
watching the news this week, so I am making up some of these notes. See if
you can guess which ones are made up and which are just stupid on there own
merit. I Confessed: I am a confessed
heretic. I could not help confessing. I thought I could hold out, but the
torture was too much even for me. I was hiding in my garage enjoying a fine
cigar when they caught me. I thought I would be safe there, but they came
right in. I figure the I knew I would never get
away with smoking in my drawing room the way we did before the year of the
purge. Those were the good old days. I had my fireplace, my big red dog, a
wingback chair, a good book, and a fine cigar. There was also the snifter of
brandy or course. Those days were gone forever with the year of the big
purge. That is why I was hiding in my garage like a slinking dog. They caught me and took
me into the basement of the tobacco police headquarters. I knew what than
meant and I was scared all right. They made all kinds of hints and innuendo
about what they were going to do to me. I suppose they get many confessions
from weaker spirited people just with the threats, but I am made of sterner
stuff than that. They did more than
threaten me. They began to carry out the threats. Even so, I held out fine
until they put the burning sulfur on my private parts. Then I cried like a
baby and confessed that I was a smoking heretic. They said they would go easy
on me if I revealed my source and implicated my good friend Eugene P.
Anonymous. I still had some pride left and I refused to do it no matter what.
By that time, I was numb to pain. They gave me the max. I was branded for
life as an unrepentant smoking heretic. Now, everywhere I go my record will
precede me. I’ll never be free of that stigma and it will transfer
automatically to my children. It’s all over for us. The It was discovered a few
days ago that the Genesee County Sheriff’s puppy dog is missing. Of
course the sheriff was distraught and he put out an APB about the dog. He was
going to do an Amber alert, but his deputy dissuaded him. Yesterday, the
sheriff appeared on the evening news to make a public appeal. He said, “If
anyone knows where my cute little puppy dog is I hope you will come forward
and tell me. If you know anything at all, please…” At this point the sheriff
burst into tears and had to be lead away from the camera by his deputy. The news reporter
finished for the sheriff, “Whoever has this dog, we urge you to bring
him back. There will be no questions asked.” Black Eye: I have another black
eye. Mrs. Gaffer asked me if I thought there would ever be a time when I
would consider seeing a psychiatrist. I answered without thinking and said,
“If I ever began to think that you were making sense when you talked
you should take me in.” Wham! That’s when it happened, from the
blind side. I’ll never learn. Mayor Daily went to
pieces for the news media. I’m not sure I saw froth at the corners of
his mouth, but he did appear to be rabid. I wondered if he had been bitten by
a mad dog. Perhaps his wife bit him. That would make more sense. It is much
easier to control mad dogs than to control mad wives. His issue was the
recent Supreme Court decision on the second amendment. They reaffirmed it. He
said we might as well do away with all the courts and begin wearing gun belts
like in the old West. I’m not sure what it was, but his suit coat was
open and I saw what looked like a gun belt around his waist. Perhaps
I’m mistaken about that. Daily is not the only
one who lost it. The Attorney General of Michigan, Jim Cox made a spectacle
of himself for the media. The issue was the same, but his response was even
more rabid than Daily’s. He said Americans value their right to have a
gun more than we value our children. I get that he wanted to be recognized as
the quintessential blustering buffoon. I’ll vote for him to be awarded
that honor. Congressman: To become a congressman
In America it is first necessary to get a soulectomy. The soul must be
completely severed from the person. While the procedure is very painful, it has
an upside. When it is over, the patient can no longer feel anything. Thus, he
can do whatever he wishes without thought or conscience. Mrs. Gaffer’s Cat: The cat she calls tiger
is nineteen years old. He is senile, clumsy, and apparently closer to the
grim reaper than I am. Therefore, we were not surprised when he wandered away
one day and did not return. Animals quite often do that. For some reason,
they go off to die alone rather than stay at home and wait for the guy with
the scythe. Mrs. Gaffer cried of course, and, of course, I held her for
whatever comfort I could give. Then we went on. I was quite surprised
when I came down the next morning and saw her sitting there with the cat
lying at her feet. He had arrived home late. It was kind of like seeing
Lazarus awake from the dead. For sure, the fool cat was not in good shape.
His rear legs did not work right and he was in obvious pain. It troubled me and
I suggested that Mrs. Gaffer give him ¼ of an aspirin. I figured it
would either stop the pain or kill him. I though either would be better than
what was happening. I hate to see suffering. Mrs. Gaffer was more
resourceful that I was. She had some children’s liquid Tylenol and she
gave him a few drops on a spoon. In a few minutes, the damn cat stood up and
walked to his grit bowl. He ate and lapped up some water, then he lay down
for a nap. I don’t know if that was number nine or not, but I believe
it was his last one. This guy is as old as cats get. He will die soon and I
will miss him. Hell, he has more seniority than most people I know. Why
wouldn’t I miss him. Back
to the Weekly Notes 2008 Archives |