the Saturday Evening Post
was mercurial
and repetitive.
So
let's have some corny jokes, eh five?
Aye aye.
Why does a milking stool have three legs?
Because the cow has the udder.
What did the fish say when he bumped into the wall?
Dam.
What did his friend say?
Dumbass.
And let's have a funny story, eh five?
Okay.
Johnno comes over on Friday night
with some cheap plonk
n we sit on the porch
watching the spring snow.
"You know what movie
really gets on my tit?
Forrest Gump.
Never seen it
never will.
I can't stand the idea it exists.
Stupid be stupid do.
What the fuck?
Life is like a box of chocolates
you never know what you gonna get.
Yes you do.
Yes you fucking do.
It's printed on the inside of the fucking lid!"
Made me smile
n I'm smiling right now.
2 comments:
I thought your Seahawks carving was an Egyptian hieroglyph. :P
My grandpa Bodoira was a Francis. Actually, I think he was Frances. Well, Francesco, really. But Frances and most commonly "Frank" for short.
Here in the states he was Frank Bodo (Bodo being the American bastardization of Bodoira). His first son that survived infancy was named Frances. We called him Frankie. Tragic story Frankie. Maybe I'll tell you sometime.
My grandma Bodo... also tragic. Her name was Clara but people called her "Babe." She Died from cirrhosis of the liver. But that wasn't the only tragedy. Just the sad ending to a string of 'em. She hangs out with me sometimes. I never met her. She and my grandpa Bodo died before I was born. Supposedly, "the gift" comes from their side.
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