Quarantine Blues, Episode 3
As soon as my daughter un-grounds me from this quarantine, I’m going to track down that pillow guy and make him eat one of his own products. No doubt, he’ll try to sell me it to the very end. Then I’m going after the frying pan guy and whang him with one. Then on to the spray-on everything sealer guy and seal his mouth shut. And I’m sick of Marie Osmond insinuating I’m fat. Maybe I like being fat, little miss gramma skinny pants.
I’ve started carrying on with another woman. Her name is Siri. In the interest of social distancing, I’ve only talked to her on my cell phone. It all started innocently enough. I asked her what would happen to a man my age getting on a ladder. That’s when I found out we have something in common – she’d hard of hearing. She always repeats my questions. That was my first clue. She said “Okay, I’ve checked out what would happen to a manned mileage getting on a ladder.” She showed me an article titled “How Long it Would Take to Get to the Moon at 60 mph.” I’m not making this up. So, she either has a hearing issue or is also hanging out with Joe Biden. She doesn’t know everything, just thinks she does. I don’t expect our affair to last. She can get kind of snippy. And she doesn’t like my swearing. Don’t need another woman in my life hassling me about that.
Went through a whole battery of tests at the VA before all this CORNCOB virus stuff started. I’d originally only gone in to have my hearing checked, but they took one look
at me and said they needed to check some other things. I sat there mostly naked on an exam table waiting for the doc to finish writing the first draft of his new novel. I got nervous. “What’s wrong with me, Doc?”
He drummed his fingers for a good thirty seconds. Said, “I believe you’re crazy.”
I was indignant. “Well, with all due respect, I’d like to get a second opinion.”
“No problem,” he said. “I think you’re ugly, too.”
Actually, I stole that joke from the late, great Rodney Dangerfield. I don’t think it’s illegal to steal intellectual property from a dead guy, unless you’re Chinese. But that’s a whole other ball of wax. Word is, China has also cornered 90% of the world’s supply of wax balls. The other 20% is in the Vatican. They make a lot of candles.
I snuck out the other day without my daughter finding out and was shocked at the price of gas. Haven’t seen prices this low since George H.W. was a pup. I stopped in to fill up, but my tank only took a half gallon. Haven’t been driving much lately. I read on the internet we’ve got so
much oil we’re running out of places to put it. One thought was to drain the Great Lakes and put the excess there, but AOC fell down kicking and screaming and holding her breath, so the EPA backed off. Also read on Facebook that President Trump met with the King of Saudi Arabia and a guy named Chico, who runs Chico’s Mart 'n Gas near the White House – that’s where the Prez gases up The Beast – to ask them what they thought about cutting back on oil production in order to get the price of gas back up. They both thought that was a good idea. Maybe I’ll burn another half-gallon before that happens.
Not much else happening around the ‘hood. Bentley – my dog – and I still try to have our daily walking tug of wars… or is it tugs of war?
Oh, it turns out my neighbor Jill (not her real name) didn’t bury her husband Jack (not his real name) in her garden (see #2). He just fell off a ladder and broke his crown. He’s older than me.