Sunday, June 17, 2012
The Story of My Life
Here's an old joke. I was waiting on a street corner for my blind date. A pretty young girl came by. "Are you Linda?" I asked. "Are you Richard?" she responded. "Yeah," I answered. " Well, I'm not Linda," she replied.
There in microcosm is the story of my life.
My earliest memory is one of pain. I remember a sadistic doctor holding me upside-down by my ankles and smartly slapping my soft pink posterior. "Ow! That hurt!" I complained loudly. Moments later I got even. When he set me right-side-up I drenched his arm.
After that it was all downhill. Somehow I survived childhood and adolescence, albeit with my psyche terribly scarred. I became convinced that our family was too poor to afford neurons. Synapses too were out of the question. Given this handicap I realized the futility of studying, and so spent most of my time drinking beer, playing pool and smoking weed. In six years I completed college, missing a degree by only thirty credits.
My adult life was exemplary. In job after job I managed to be fired right after I became eligible for severance. Also, I never missed a day of eligibility for sick time or unemployment insurance. Clearly I had raised getting fired to an art form.
Unhappily my application for social security disability benefits was denied. Apparently lack of neurons isn't covered.
Last week I passed away. At my funeral several persons said such nice things about me that for a while I thought I was at the wrong funeral. Then I realized that they were probably at the wrong funeral.
I'm now on my way to hell, where I plan to reorganize things. I'll let you know how it goes. Or better yet, you'll be able to see for yourself.
