Maddie let out a sigh of exasperation. “I can’t believe this. Why does everything have to be sexual?”
“What?” Bernard looked up from his menu, obviously confused.
“Look at this Bernie. They have orgasmic fruit.”
Bernard paused. “Maddie, Maddie,” he shook his head. “That’s organic fruit.”
“Oh,” Maddie said, her outrage quickly fading. “Well in that case, I’ll just have the poached eggs.”
“Who was that guy in Popeye who would gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today?” Bernard asked
“Wimpy?” I suggested.
“Yeah! That’s our former frat boy. Making promises about how we’ll pick up the tab for whatever ails anyone who gets his sympathy. Now he’s going to bail out a couple of mortgage companies that were privatized – at least they were private until they got into trouble. Now they’re the responsibility of us taxpayers. Private when they make a profit. Public when they lose money. Now that’s a sweet business to get into.”
“You should not talk about the president that way,” Maddie rebuked her older brother.
“’Former frat boy?’ What? Did I get that wrong? He’s actually still in a fraternity? Because that would explain so much,” Bernard said, spinning one half of his bagel while patiently chewing. “You think that his entire presidency has just been a series of drunken dares? A hazing ritual gotten out of control?”
“Bernie!” Maddie said sharply. “Do you have champagne in that orange juice?”
“Maddie, when are you going to give up on your boy?”
“He is the president,” Maddie said.
“Now that’s a sad truth,” Bernard sighed.
Later, Bernard shook his head. “George’s trick of spending like a drunken sailor while putting everything on the bar tab just doesn’t stimulate any more. It’s one thing for a 25 year old woman to show a little cleavage to stimulate attention – it is quite another for a 125 year old woman to try it. After a while, some things just don’t work. All indications are that the economy is tired of his stimulation trick and just sees his trick as further proof that trouble is brewing.”
“Stimulation,” Maddie said. “Why does everything have to be sexual?”
“If only it were,” Bernard sighed, "if only it were. Then we could have impeached that frat boy.”
R World (Ron Davison muses aloud)
W, W, W,...
ReplyDelete-You're stuttering.
Scott,
ReplyDeleteSorry. Some weeks I'm a little more distracted than others by the fact of George. This is me in disbelief.
Geez Ron, your stuttering and constant sexual connotations would make Freud absolutely salivate.
ReplyDeleteAllen,
ReplyDeleteI don't know about salivate, but he did used to call all the time and just breath into the phone. That did not trouble me as much as the fact that he'd stay on the line for 50 minutes and then send me a bill each week.
Salivating? You might be thinking about Pavlov. He was a fascinating dinner party guest but it was simply horrible to watch him eat.
Uhm, Ron . . . that wasn't Freud who called. And where's my money?
ReplyDeletePavlov. Dinner. Salivate. Yep. See what you mean.
I suppose it's too late to impeach George Sr for his extramarital sexual relationship? Sins of the father, and all that?
ReplyDeleteIf I actually believed that we should impeach presidents for that sort of thing. In the case of our current prez, that would be sort of like nailing drug dealers for mail fraud.
Jennifer,
ReplyDeleteAt a minimum, we could perhaps sue for malpractice. I figure that the tab for W. ought to approach about $6 trillion by now.
Chuckling here...people can always conjure a little outrage when it comes to the sexual follies of others but financial and political mistakes? Well, those things are just to complex and, frankly, impolite to talk about in public!
ReplyDeletecce,
ReplyDeleteWe can't be outraged at what we don't understand I guess. Good point.