This blog began in December of 2003, in a simpler time – a time before the cancellation of the Golden Globes, before Susan Boyle’s ascendence, before the dark times.
My first post was a misbegotten muse about the selection of new eyeglasses. It pretty much sucked.
In February of 2006 I returned again to the topic with a punchless post pontificating on another pair of new glasses. That post sucked too.
Now it is June, 2009. The days are sunny, the custard of life is fragrant, and straw man logical fallacies are en vogue thanks to our beloved president. As such, I am dipping back into the well of ill-conceived iniquity for another post about getting new eyewear.
My purchase of new spectacles became necessary this weekend. I was replacing the battery in our Jeep, and my glasses were slipping off my nose and becoming a nuisance. Annoyed, I took them off and set them on the engine while I continued working. Sure enough, once I had finished my man-labor I absent-mindedly slammed the hood down and destroyed my precious glasses. Screamingly incontinent with rage, I created a mess on my driveway that took Bridgette three hours to clean up.
So we went and picked out some new ones. I don’t really know what else to say on the matter. If I had to describe them, I’d say they’re bigger than Harry Potter’s but smaller than Phil Donohue’s.
The end.
Strike three.
The 2003 post was pretty funny. The 2006 post was hilarious. Today’s… well, if you write in 2011 that this post sucked, I wouldn’t argue the point too vehemently. Although the “screamingly incontinent” part brought a chuckle, as all your bodily (mal)function jokes do for me.
I just went back and re-read that 2006 post. That was a pretty good one, it turns out. Of course, that was back when I was young, fresh, and inspired.
Now I am a glum, bitter, raisin of a man.
“Now I am a glum, bitter, raisin of a man.”
LOL!!! That comment saved today’s post. A wonderful bit of delayed brilliance. You are still fresh and inspired, if not young. You are still the King.
Then again… do you get the feeling it’s just you and I on here lately?
Tom, you are a sycophant worthy of Elvis himself.
sycophant/ sik – uh – fant (noun): aging, overweight male, usually in the entertainment business, continuing to perform well past his prime.
Jerk.
In all seriousness, Tom, as the Elvis expert in the house – who was the greatest “yes man” for the King, and during what years was he hanging around?
I believe that would be Charlie Hodge, one of E’s closest friends, and one of the few who did not betray him by writing a trashy book and/or use him for his generosity.
Or, you could be referring to Dr. “Nick”, who provided the King with all the drugs he could ever want.