Thursday, December 04, 2008
Phil was talking about a particular “old lady” yesterday and I said, I don’t think she is that old. He says she must be 65! Hello!!! I am 60, even if she was 65, it is just not that “old”. Yikes! Sometimes it may seem as if they must be way old based on the age of their oldest children (and he had that factored in), but,…no-no. They had the first child at 13, and that child had their children while they were still children, and those children were having babies at 13…... So you end up with this giant family of multi-generations, and the “old lady” is not an “old lady”. If you do the math based on my age 13 number, it is ugly, but not uncommon. Sometimes I question, “who does this baby actually belong to?”, because the great grandmother is not yet in menopause. This unfortunate circumstance means that undereducated breeders stuck in the poverty cycle are contributing to the population in a rapid repeat fashion. A person who’s really crappy education to begin with, ended at age 13, is not a educated consumer, nor an educated voter. This is how the communist party sneaks in and looks attractive to the poor, uneducated, over-babied peasant who is sitting on the sofa (no job) with the coil springs popped through the ripped red hide of a nauga, watching a beat up, old, tiny black and white TV with a snowy screen. This is not a made-up scenario in case you are wondering. Don Tonto just moved these folks. I originally called him Don Mark (the target) when I learned he was moving them, but he said he offered, which means I should call him Don Tonto (stupid), but a nice guy. I am not insulting him, these are tags of humor that we apply to ourselves, out loud and to each other when we find ourselves in awkward or embarrassing positions caused by our own stupidity, misunderstanding or inability to say no. This move made Jed Clampet and the Beverly Hillbillies look good, it should have been a bulk trash fire just for the purpose of sanitation. I am not trying to be unkind in my portrayal of this move, in fact, I have tempered the reality. I should have taken a photo (I was frozen in disbelief mumbling, “Oh my God”, and, it was raining). Our 20’ flat bed truck had a bicycle laid flat on top of the 7’ heap of mostly unrecognizable rubble (this was the second trip) and their skinny chained dog was quivering on top of the bike, in the now pouring rain. The beat up TV was wrapped in rotten nasty foam, and then covered in nasty soiled fabric, tied like a precious party gift with dirty string, and set on the front seat with Don Tonto. The women carrying babies were to find a place on the back of the truck with the rubble. Everyone has their priorities and pecking order, we know what is important here.