Lord, I was Born a Rambling Man

Normally I would write something funny.  But today I want to drop some troof on Y’all.  Not really.  I’m going to lie.  This entire post will be nothing but a pack of lies. 

     I wonder why lies run in packs, like wolves, or cigarettes, or gum.  And why do they run when they are called lies.  I guess “runs” is already taken.  Still, lies rarely lie.  They usually hit the ground running and, like the town slut, spread themselves everywhere.

      Why is gum called “gum”, for that matter?  Shouldn’t it be called “Teeth and Tongue”?  Nah, that sounds like a steak house or a couple of unfortunate dentists.  They could have called gum “Chew”, but then people would get confused.  They’d put “just a pinch between cheek

and gum” and it would just sit there making saliva, and instead of spitting gross, chunky, brown tobacco phlegm they’d be spitting pink, sugary drool – and that would never do.  Real men only spit pink when they brush their teeth.  And let’s be honest, tongue cancer is way sexier than a cavity.

      

When you go the offices of, say - Teeth & Tongue, DDS for a dental check-up, should you ask for a cavity search? I don’t think I would even though it is exactly what you need.  It’s the whole “political correctness” trend that stops us from telling it like it is, right?  I mean, the phrase “Political Correctness” is kind of an oxymoron anyway.

Now, there is a word that should mean something all-together different - “Oxymoron”.  It should be used by parents to scare their children straight.  For instance:

       “Oh sure!  First its Mary-Jane,” the father would say, “and the next thing you know you are in an alley popping pain pills!  Do you want to end up an oxymoron like your Uncle Jeffery?  Huh?  Is that what you want, mister?!”

       At that point the mother, who is Jeffery’s sister, would clear her throat and say calmly, “Now, to be fair, Jeffery is working hard to get oxy-clean.”

       Okay, I guess we should leave good enough alone.  Speaking of which;

       I had a Dog once.  I named him Gootey Nuff after the famous German philosopher, Gutenschplachen Nuff.  But, Gootey was a bit neurotic and would constantly poop in the house and chew up my girlfriend’s shoes whenever we left the house for more than a few minutes at a time.  I finally had to get rid of him.  I just couldn’t leave Gootey Nuff alone.

 

Which, of course, is what I should have done before I sat down to write this post.

                 But, what a wino?

DP