It’s great fun, and heartwarming, too, not only to read to your little ones while they’re little, but also to have your 1st-grader reading books to you and sounding out words. Yet, even while enjoying a touching moment recently, and without in any way cheapening it, still, in the back of my mind, I had to wonder if Dr. Suess would have perhaps rewritten some lines in one of his most famous books, “Green Eggs and Ham”, had he written it today. I’m thinking that if he had written the book in 2011 rather than 1960, there would have been calls to ban it for such lines as “Could you, would you, with a goat? I would not, could not, with a goat!” Stoke up the bonfire, Rush Limbaugh.
There’s some things I laugh at, that I just can’t explain to her; I usually end up saying, “Oh it was just something silly I thought of.” Like the time we were driving past a funeral home, and something behind it caught my eye. It was a pile of firewood, and, knowing that the place had a crematorium in it, I just immediately pictured some old farmer bringing in a pickup load of wood, trying to save a little money on their services for his wife’s funeral. “There oughta be enough there to burn me up when the time comes, too, don’tcha think?” Not riproaring funny to tell it here, but it was one of those things that just flashed into my mind when I saw the woodpile, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “What?” “What’s so funny?”, she asks so musically and happily, and you just want to tell her, but how do you explain some of the more silly adult humor?
The same thing happened when I was reading a little self-help book, you know, one of those little 3 inch by 4 inch books that they force you to take with you, for free, when you buy a bookshelf at a rummage sale, something that was probably a stocking stuffer originally. Among other crap in it was this gem: to “Slow Down” (the book is called “Inner Simplicity” by Elaine St. James, by the way), among other things, if you drive, you’re supposed to “make a point of staying within the posted speed limit.” I laughed loud and hard at that one, and she came rushing over from playing to try to see what was so funny. I’m not sure what I said to her then, but the idea of me obeying the speed limit on the way to work is just, well, it’s almost a physical impossibility. Even if I initially try to take it easy, the first time someone in front of me goes 5 mph under the speed limit in the fast lane, my conditioned reflexes just click in and I start racing–can’t help myself, sorry. And, really, when it comes down to it, I don’t just speed on the way to work because I’m incapable of getting out of bed in time; I mainly just like going my own speed, whenever possible. It’s just a peaceful relaxing way for me to get from one place to the other, even if it involves racing. (I don’t do it on obvious backstreets, anywhere near kids or grannies, or wherever–then I drive grandpa speed) But when I used to have to cross the interstate on the 4-lane state highway to get to a previous job, and it was just a one-mile stretch of road before the turnoff to the factory, I would be perfectly relaxed and at peace if I could hit 70 mph going over the overpass. I’d go into the shop in a slightly less awful frame of mind.
In other news, what do “Dr. Phil” and “Dr. Drew” of TV fame have in common in their bathrooms? On their bathroom mirrors, they both have, etched into the glass, the self-help question: “How can I make an assload of money today off someone else’s misery?”
The last time I ate out, I saw a Heinz ketchup bottle with one of those nerd-pack sayings on it: “Guess What This Bottle Is Made Of”. Not only did I not have a Sharpie with me, but I didn’t think the other diners would appreciate it if I wrote “The tears of Somali children who can’t find a crust of bread to eat while we stuff our fat faces here in America.”
From the “I Love You Enough to Not Rearrange Your Face” department: What really does Bruno Mars mean when he says “When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change….”? Not really that bad a song, though.
Enough already. I need to catch up on sleep after last night’s late night, when I went on a spree of throwing out some of Mom and Dad’s old stuff that can’t possibly mean anything to anyone. I mean, how many farm receipts from 1987 do you need to keep? One of my goals for the winter is to get rid of all their “non-memento” type stuff, and all of my old paperwork and stuff that’s been in junk drawers forever unused and unwanted. Like, for instance, 3 or 4 old jelly jars stuffed full of pens with dried-up ink–those are keepers. Movies recorded onto VHS tapes, cassette music tapes, old unsent generic greeting cards, shirts I haven’t worn since approximately as long ago as when Jesus first learned to masturbate, etc, etc…..
I would not, could not, with a goat.