Remember when I used to write a blog? It seems like only last week I wrote my often humorous musings on aging, politics, public transportation, food, gardening and green living, not to mention the surly extended family and the supercute grandson, at stultifying length and and interminable detail. Ah, those were the days. I was so young then!
Yesterday was the eighteenth birthday of my baby sister Dara. I called and sang “Happy Birthday, dear doofus” to her voicemail and was surprised when I wasn’t her one call from county lockup somewhere, but today, the night is still young and she might figure our sister Daria might be an easier mark. A bazillion years ago:
Daria: Daddy, if Domenica and I had gotten arrested swimming in the reservoir would you have bailed us out?
Dad: Hell no! I drink that water.
Okay, it wasn’t all that long ago, and our arrest records remain curiously clean, but everyone knows Dara’s an evil genius who forgets to plot escape routes from her crime scenes, and colleges care about that shit. So if there’s a lesson to be learned by the youth of America, who have spent every second of their brief lives under surveillance, it’s this: your fingerprints and DNA are probably on file in some government system. Your best bet for a life of crime is in computer science unless you can clone a good twin you can play for a patsy. Bon appetit!