Went down to the tire guy's place today to get my oil changed (I like him, so I'd rather pay him than do it myself or go to one of those oil-change places) and he had the little teevee on sitting on the table with aWol (aWol but still with enough chutzpah
to attend a Senseless Slaughter Remembrance Day, er--I mean, Memorial Day ritual) doing a "press conference." (That is, a "session where the little box on his back better not short out.") I had to laugh when Jerald, the tire guy, 'Nam vet and all-around fixit man, looked at the teevee and said, I quote:
Sheeeeit. If that motherfucker can be president, my goddam dog can be president, and look at the poor fucker--got hit by a car and hasn't been right since. I warned you, didn't I? Oh, that's right. You're a Kerry guy. Well, I tell ya, if you ever chug some bad whiskey and need to puke it up, just watch this bastard talk awhile. That shit'll come right up. And you're talking to a veteran. A real one. 'Course, then you'll want more whiskey.
I tipped him nicely. Now to find some whiskey.