Bad Boys, Bad Boys, What Ya Gonnna Do?

All right, so I was wrong about the Oscar for Best Picture. I'm pretty sure that there were voting irregularities. My people are still in court arguing our case for an emergency stay of the award or something like that. Speaking of voting irregularities, is Al Gore's head getting bigger? And is it bigger than Jack Nicholson's head? The thing is gigantic. Inquiring minds want to know. While old Al was being beatified by voice acclaimation among the usual Hollywood suspects, the good folks at the Tennessee Center for Policy Research were busy pulling Al Gore's utility bills together. It seems like Al doesn't break a sweat while he does his important climate research, at least at home. Now don't get me wrong, I am not a global warming denier. I just prefer that the biggest preacher, not also be the biggest hog. Just saying. I am ticked off today and I may be having some sort of episode. One of my coworkers is off sick, the other is on vacation and people are driving me crazy at work over things these two have hosed up. Not even an excellent worker like myself can overcome the havoc caused by two determined knuckleheads, at least single-handedly. Few have tried and all have failed. And as is this wasn't enough grief for your mild manner pal (me) to handle, my bum son Cletus called my cell phone this afternoon to ask for $50 bucks, to...let me think now...oh yeah, buy diapers for his kid. The kid he claims isn't his. The children he admits to, are eight and six and long out of diapers. I'm guess that this was a huge lie, call it a hunch. I wish I knew how to get this guy out of my life, once and for all. He acts like he has short-term memory loss, because no amount of telling him no, will stop him from calling back the very next day, as though we never had the previous day's argument. Or maybe I am caught in the 99th circle of hell where my eternal punishment is to be badgered for cash by hoards of drug addicts. Our conversation today, like always, went like this: Him: Hi Dad. Me: Hello Cletus (Think Seinfeld, think "Hello, Newman"). Him: How are you? Me: Fine, you? Him: Good, good (he likes to repeat things). Silence Me: What do you want? Him: Uh, Yolanda (the bum girlfriend) is coming by at 6 pm and I need to take her to the store. Me: How does that affect me? Him: Can I borrow $50? Me: I am not the bank and stop saying "borrow" because you have never paid back a cent. Him: Uh, yeah. I am at work until six. Me: What? Him: I am doing what you said to do. Can I get $50? Me: What are you talking about? Where is your money? Him: I spent it doing what you said I should do. Me: What the hell are you talking about? Him: I spent my money taking care of things I am supposed to take care of. Me: If that was true you wouldn't be bugging me for money to take Yolanda to the store, which is a load of crap anyway. Him: That's what you want to believe. Me: You are up to something. Him: That's what you what to believe. I'm trying to do what you said to do. Me: You are being manipulative. Him: No you are manipulating me. Me: Goodbye. What I am accused of telling him to do is to pay the bum girlfriend child-support, which he doesn't do. Stay off drugs, which he doesn't do. Keep his word and meet his financial obligations, which, altogether now...HE DOESN'T DO! Libertarians, who think all drugs ought to be legal, should have to spend a bit of time with this bonehead. He will change your tune real fast. Merle. Evening update: Just got home from bowling. Cletus called my cell phone while I was there. Then I checked our home phone for messages and guess what? The lad is relentless. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor