take it apart and put it back together again, I don't trust it. Go Class of '34! Go Illini!
So I asked the young whippersnapper behind the counter where they kept the butter churns and the gingerbread men, but the rapscallion just looked at me like I was some crazy German! Do I look like a Kaiser-kisser to you? "Go back to the old-folks home, grandpa," he said. Let me tell you, if one of my brood ever sassed back like that, I would have blistered his britches in a New York minute!
Hell, I remember one time when I was eight, I neglected my morning chores before heading off to the schoolhouse. Paps kicked me in the teeth so hard I shit enamel for a fortnight. He said maybe that would help me remember next time. Let me tell you, after that I was up at the crack of dawn every hellfire morning hauling bath water and milking old Millie (that's Millie the cow, not Millie my wife). Now I every time I smile at myself in the mirror and see my twisted, broken chops and cut lip, I shed a tear of gratitude for the way Paps straightened my suspenders. My Paps was a man--full of sand and vigor! These days, if you so much as club one of your grandkids in the jaw for calling you a "mean old man," they send you to a goddamn head doctor and won't let you visit the little bastards without 'adult supervision.' What the hell do they think I am--chopped liver for Christ's sake?
What in tarnation do get for a family that let their kids run around screaming like a bunch of bloodthirsty injuns? I suppose I should get them frilly pink dresses, because they're all acting like a bunch of ladies! You expect a woman to behave that way because she doesn't understand that's a hard world out there. How could she? She's never spent twenty years pulling white-hot ingots from a blast furnace and then been shit-canned because she takes a drink now and then! Women are soft and delicate and pure like a downy red rose. And I am vile and filthy. Filthy! God, I miss my Millie. Now there was a woman who could take a punch! None of this crying and calling the police, like you see nowadays. Oh, she didn't like it none, but after a hard day's work, the last thing a man needs is a bunch of yammering on about the damn kids! She'd always quiet down for a while until I'd throw her over my shoulder, haul her to the bedroom and perform the marriage act on her until she forgave me. Those were the days!
The point is, it's high time I did my goddamn holiday shopping. Lollygagging never got a man to the bank, I always say! Sure, Christmas won't be the same without Millie sniffing out the perfect present for John, Jennifer, Joseph, and little what's-his-name--Jimmy, Jr. I'll be damned if I have that kind of feminine caring touch, so it's a good thing they still got United States Savings Bonds. I wanted to get War Bonds, but the lady at the bank told me the wars were all over. I know that! You'd think we'd be trying to save up for the next time the Huns try some funny business, but I guess that makes too much damn sense! Mark my words, this is exactly the kind of short-sighted thinking that's flushing this great nation down the toilet. Merry Christmas!
