Saturday, July 16, 2011

Straying From Home

Y'all might recall a post I done on Edifice Rex, an Alabama homesteader who makes mahvelous pottery.

This mornin' I stopped by her place to see what all wuz growin' in her garden(wow!), an' she had a link to a blogger who is new to her--wif' the recommendation that iffin' ya need a belly laugh to stop by his place. I did. I concur. Heah's a li'l taste fer y'all.

Curmudgeon's Complaint

During the 60’s when I was a young hippie, I had too much respect for my elders to call them sir, at least until I got drafted. You wouldn't want to get too casual though. I called my dad Hank …once. I regained consciousness about a week later and couldn’t remember his first name for the next couple of years.
Often, unbearably perky young people will ask me, “Why are you so cranky?” and I have to patiently explain to them that I have a wife and children, watch the news and wear corrective underwear that binds like theirs will in thirty years. They usually don’t ask again.

* * * * * *
I hear Rogain sort of works to grow hair, but I don’t want to spend 30 percent of my income growing something so my hair looks like the outside of a kiwi fruit. I figure if I’m that concerned about what girls think of me, I’ll just tape hundred dollar bills to my head.
If shoulder length ear hair ever comes into style I will be one major playa.

No comments: