Still got my weiner
I’ve been thinking. Yep, I’ve been thinking about how my luck has changed through the years. My luck is pretty good right now. I get to write stupid stories for the Winters Express and iPinion Syndicate, and sometimes people will actually read them. How dumb is that?
I thought about the earliest year I can remember, 1955, and I found it was the most unlucky year, ever. There was a lot of crap happening in 1955; all of it was unlucky, too. I’m happy to say that I’m not the only one it was unlucky for. It was a year that was unlucky for everybody. I just happened to be there and couldn’t get away, so I got some of the crap too, but I’ll get back to that later.
In 1955, James Dean and some dude named Rolf crashed in a Porsche 550 Spider while going like a thousand miles an hour. They burnt up until they were crispy critters. That dude Joe DiMaggio got dumped by Marilyn Monroe. Imagine that! That dude must have been crying for days! A kid named William Henry “Bill” Gates III was born. Now I can’t get off of this damn computer.
That same year a lady named Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a bus,so now all the white people have to ride on BART. Albert Einstein fell over dead, so now no one will ever know what the hell he was talking about. The Cuban government let Fidel Castro out of jail because they thought he was in for putting explosives in the big cigars. The truth of the matter is that he was putting cigars against the big explosives. Funny how a typo will change history, huh?
In that same year, an all-white jury acquitted Milam and Roy Bryant for the murder of a kid named Emmett Till, whom they dragged from his bed in the middle of the night, brutally murdered him and dumped him in the river. Well, except for their niece Anita, all them Bryants are in hell right now.
A whole bunch of terrible airplane crashes happened that year, including Air India’s’ Kashmir Princess, El Al Flight 402, which was shot down by Bulgarian fighter pilots, United Airlines Flight 409, and United Airlines Flight 629. I’m glad I didn’t go anywhere that year, but I was having a bad year too.
In 1955, my brother Michael was kidnapped and the guy that took him socked me in the jaw. Now my jaw clicks when I chew stuff. That damn clicking got me a divorce one time. Even worse than that, it was the year they started broadcasting “The Lord of the Rings” on the radio. My mom took us to a pear farm one night and we heard the first episode. The very next day, she dumped me in an orphanage, so I never heard the rest.
Just before Christmas that year, I ran away because Sister Conchadda told me she was going to cut off my weiner. I had the hardest time climbing over the damn eight foot fence. I got to the top of the fence and jumped off just as the gate swung open. I hate it when that happens. Later that night the cops caught me eating doughnuts out of a garbage can behind a bakery. They took me back to the orphanage despite my begging them not to. I still have my weiner though.
Sometimes when I tell that story, people want to see it, but I’m too shy. I’ve been with my wife for about 30 years now and she ain’t ever seen it. I don’t think I’ll ever show it to anyone, so I guess you will have to take my word for it. She calls it “Big Mo” but I call it the “Python.”