George Carlin is my patron saint

Those of you who know me personally are probably painfully aware that I have perverse sense of humor at times.  I enjoy annoying the snot out of Squidboy with bad puns.  Sometimes Athos, Technogeek and I would tag-team and pelt him with puns.  Good puns, bad puns, and some real rotten-egg-fart puns.  That may be why he escaped to the military as soon as he could.

I also have a deep and abiding love for both well-written sociopolitical satire and dark humor.  I almost said "black humor", but these days it could get me branded as racist, or at least as woefully non-PC.  (If I had sufficient alcohol in my system, I might attempt a Carlin-esque

riff on that, but not tonight.  Count your blessings for small favors, folks.)

So why should you give a brass farthing* for any of this totally useless information?  Because I want to recommend a darkly humorous post written by an articulate writer and cynical observer of the human condition, the blogger known as "Crusty Ambulance Driver".  Please keep an open mind while reading....

And just for the record, no, your brains are not going to fall out if you keep an open mind.  That's an urban legend started by people who would prefer to tell you what to think, rather than permit you to think for yourself.  Yes, people might throw garbage into it (as one blogger observed), but you get to choose what to discard and what to keep, not some petty authoritarian with their own agenda.

*My Fair Lady (1964) fans should recognize the reference to Alfred P. Doolittle (so wonderfully portrayed by Stanley Holloway).  He goes to Eliza for money after seeking it from others and being told, "...not a brass farthing".

There ought to be a law

What's the deal with all the robocalls?  Do the politicians and their handlers really think people enjoy receiving those things?

Ring.  Ring.

Call recipient, dropping whatever s/he might have been doing: "Hello?  Hello?"

"Hello, this is (insert name here) calling to slander my opponent and fill your ears with slanted half-truths, blatant falsehoods, and self-serving empty promises...."

Now, I don't know about you, but if I've already decided to vote for that particular candidate, a robocall will not make me support the individual any more strongly.  If I have decided to vote against that candidate, I don't want to listen to the propaganda.  Should I still be undecided, multiple robocalls will only annoy the hell out of me and incline me to cast my vote for the candidate who hasn't repeatedly taken me away from my family, dinner, the bathroom, etc.

We already have the ability to sign up for a telemarketing no-call list.  Why can't we have one for political parties, too?!?

Out of the mouths of babes....

Unhappy child being disciplined for hitting his brother:

"But he hit me back first!"

You have to love that logic.

And yes, it was one of mine.

Squidboy called

He sounded a little overwhelmed.  Apparently he had trouble with his calling card, because he called collect.  All we got out of him was, "I only have a minute-- Gotta go, bye!"

At least we know he made it.

Lest anyone berate me...

I mean absolutely no disrespect to my beloved youngest son by referring to him as "Squidboy".  Friendly harassment is a game we've played for years, and if he had ever voiced serious objections to the name, I would have stopped immediately.  Should he object in the future, I will gladly bestow on him the pseudonym of his choice.  (Within reason. lol)

And just for the record, he usually calls me "SharkBait".

Waiting...

He-who-claims-he-is-usually-ignored (my DH; let's call him "Athos") and I have been tied to the phone since mid-afternoon.  See, Youngest Son ("Squidboy") has gone off to boot camp, and should be calling this evening to let us know he's arrived.  It'll be the last time we'll get to hear his voice until 3 to 4 weeks into his training.  This separation is not going to be easy on those of us he's left behind.

Oldest Son ("Technogeek") still lives at home, and probably will until he finishes his post-secondary education and finds a full-time job with which to support himself.  The economy being what it is these days, that could take awhile, and there's no reason to waste money he doesn't have.  He gets free rent; we get tech support and computer maintenance out of the deal.  How cool is that?

So Squidboy's leaving home is a HUGE change for us.  Once he graduates from boot camp around the end of the year, he'll be sent halfway across the country for his military "A" schools.  After that, he'll be posted who-knows-where.

It's strange how we can spend so much time waiting for our children to grow up and become self-sufficient, yet be completely unready for it when it finally happens....

Right now I'd give my eyeteeth for him to call and ask me how to cook canned soup just one more time.  (He did that once when he was younger.  Called me at work and pulled me off a production line to get instructions, rather than taking the time to read the back of the can.)

Squidboy's got a good head on his shoulders and is quite capable of taking care of himself.    We're very proud to be able to claim him as our son.  But that won't keep me from worrying about him.

Note: Those few readers who have been here before might notice that my husband's pseudonym has changed.  He was afraid people might get the wrong idea about him from the other one.  His wish is my command!  Mostly.....