• author
    • Terri Connett

    • August 18, 2017 in Columnists

    Pops to the rescue

    August has been a pretty stressful month.

    First, Donald “Batshit” Trump decided to incite Kim “Ratshit” Jong-un with an incoherent string of “fire and fury” taunts. L’il Kim countered Trump’s “you best not” threats by revealing that mini-him has developed mini-nukes to pack inside long-range missiles that could reach the U.S. mainland.

    Terrifying, right?

    But before we can take even a minute to digest that bit of news, our idiot president swallowed his dog whistle during a full-throated, third-time’s-the-charm statement on the violence in Charlottesville. He ditched the teleprompter and spoke from his bloated gut to endorse some ‘very fine people’ who hang with the KKK, neo-Nazis and white supremacists.

    Trump basically gave the green light to every Confederate flag-waving. Jew-hating, fatheaded bigot to crawl out from under his or her rock and be interviewed on “VICE News Tonight.”

    Thanks, Trump.

    During the dog days of summer, Americans are forced to prioritize our catastrophes. I’m thinking I’ll take on the race war. Since I live east of Chicago, I’m probably out of range from North Korea’s nukes. But wait. I do have beloved family members out west. You know what, though? They all voted for Trump. So . . .

    Is the President of the United States a racist? Or is he just pandering to the scumbags in his base? Pedophiles and puppy fuckers — come one, come all. Either way, now that Trump has shown his (tiny) racist hand, I’m having a really hard time seeing how this all plays out.

    And so, I believe it’s time for another installment of “Dads say the darndest things.” As a refresher, my 78-year-old Pops has MS, is confined to a wheelchair and lives in a support home. Yet he finds humor and positivity in the darkest of circumstances.

    Here are some of his latest zingers:

    Me: “Well your hair’s all fluffy so your shower days must have changed.”
    Pops: “Yeah, the new girl’s just learning the ropes.”
    Me: “So Peggy’s not your shower aide anymore?”
    Pops: “No, it’s Hillary Clinton. She’s got a lot more time on her hands these days.”

    Me: “You seem tired, Pops. Didn’t you sleep last night?”
    Pops: “No, Ivana kept me up all night.”
    Me: “You mean Ivanka?”
    Pops: “NO, the mother! Why does everybody forget about the MOTHER?”

    During a phone conversation, Pops was watching CNN and said, “Oh look, there’s President Fancy Hair.”

    My dad gets pretty creative when it comes to telling me what he had for lunch or supper that day. Here are some of his favorite dishes:
    “Swordfish pizza, cutting edge facing me please.”
    “Seared steak, directly from the Sears & Roebuck catalog.”
    “In honor of election day, we’re having elephant sandwiches with jack-ass gravy.”
    “Swiss steak was sent over here from Switzerland because they don’t like it and they know the fat Americans will eat anything.”
    “They say the soup is made from scratch and I told them it tastes like somebody scratched her ass while she made it.”

    Two young, very pretty, African American certified nursing assistants were talking to me and my dad in his room. Out of nowhere, and I mean nowhere, Pops said, “My hammer (penis) is black, you know.”
    Me: “Pops, why would you say that?!”
    Pops: “Well I’ve noticed there are a fair amount of black people here and I wanted to fit in.”

    Nursing Assistant: “Boy, my hands are cold.”
    Pops: “Quick, put them down my pants.”

    During a phone conversation, Pops said, “Wait, they just said something over the loudspeaker about the floor nurse.”
    Me: “What did they say?”
    Pops: “I don’t know but tell her to stay there and I’ll be right over!”

    Activity Aide: “Jan, are your shoes on the right feet?”
    Pops: “These are the only feet I’ve got!”

    Pops had a bad cold in February and was really miserable. I felt so sorry for him and tried to get him to take a nap, but he refused.
    Me: “Do you want some water?”
    Pops: “No.”
    Me: “Sprite?”
    Pops: “No.”
    Me: “Popsicle?”
    Pops: “No.”
    Me: “Is there anything I can get you?”
    Pops (in his barely audible little John Belushi voice): “Cheeseburger.”

    Using his “reacher” Pops clobbered a huge spider on the floor. He spoke like a boxing match announcer. “He took four blows to the head and now he’s dead.”

    The pink solar hula dancer on Pop’s window sill was moving much slower than the others. Pops said, “I think she might need a hysterectomy.” During a subsequent phone conversation, my dad was commenting on how fast his solar snowman was moving. “That’s right,” Pops told him, “keep dancin’ buddy. The trash can’s right over there.”

    So if Secretary of State, Ex-Exxon Rex’s monotone response to the North Korean threat that “Americans should sleep well at night” didn’t do much to reassure you, here’s hoping my dad gave you a smile and a little bit of hope that everything’s going to be okay.

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