After the November elections, I was happy beyond belief. So, I decided to visit Washington, D.C. and stroll through our hallowed halls of back biting and mediocrity to see if anything had changed. But, they made me leave. I was wearing a Depends Adult Diaper and my green, Cowboy Bob leather chaps at the time. It made me feel closer to them somehow. The ensemble was topped off by a tiara and my Jungle Jim leopard skin moccasins. Nobody there appreciates fashion.
I think the real turning point was when I jumped up on the speaker's podium and yelled, "Ungawa! Ungawa!"
I couldn't believe it. They escorted me out. Actually, they threw me out on my face. They said it's the part of my body that needs the most improvement. How rude.
I read a piece on the dangers of teenage and college age drinking. It's a serious problem but it seems that when something happens to me, it somehow turns into comedy. Well, people laugh anyway.
Some kids end up with police records and generally screw up their lives. Some get in a car and either kill or get killed and I have personal experience. My brother was crippled in an alcohol related accident at 18. My uncle was killed in the same manner after surviving WWII combat. As for me, the Lord designed my body in such a way that it will only tolerate so much alcohol. Then, I throw up. I did that a lot and at a very young age.
I've been fortunage though. I somehow survived without killing anyone and without any drinking related convictions. There was the mongoose incident but I really don't like to talk about it. However, I did drink at an early age and most people, including my teachers and parents, had little or no idea.
I was raised in an area that was considered "dry" which means the closest retail outlet or "hooch joint" was miles away. Folks in our area believed that, had Bible history occurred in our area, Jesus would have turned the water into Kool Aid because there weren't gonna be no alkeehol there. But, being the innovative little rascals we were, we found a way and that way was via one of the numerous bootleggers in the area.
I knew an older guy and he got some of us "in the club" so to speak. After that, I didn't even have to show up on a bootlegger's doorstep. I called and they delivered to wherever I was. How's that for convenience? I was 13 years old at the time so, needless to say, memories of junior high and high school are a little fuzzy in places. I got drunk a lot.
I joined the military and it was much the same. But, I realized one day that while my friends were laughing it up, I was throwing up my socks. So, I decided that maybe it would be better to sip instead of gulp. To try to enjoy the experience rather than letting it burn its way through my system without a second thought. And that's when I found that I didn't really enjoy alcohol that much anyway. Go figure. Pepsi and Dr. Pepper. That's more my style.
So, for decades, I've been one of those "one drink a year" guys. Until this week, that is. My doctor says he wants me to drink one ounce of alcohol a day.
I barely survived childhood and now I'm getting hoo-head John by prescription. How great is that? I smiled and said, "I don't normally drink alcoholic beverages but I'm looking for an excuse to start." He said, "Let's keep it at an ounce a day." Well, all rightie then.
Today, as in my youth, few people really understand me. It's probably because I speak Swahili. Well, it sounds like Swahili. I'm not sure what it is. The only person that really gets me is my girlfriend, Judy. She'll say she's not really my girlfriend but, that's just the drugs speaking. I have her super glued to my couch right now.
She's so feisty. And, she bites.
Well, I have to go now. It's time to let my psychiatrist, Dr. Demonic, out of the closet for his evening walk. He's such an angry man.