- The Diary of Mitch R. Singer
- Hanging with the Goon
- The Consummate Politician Apologizes
- Rating the WWE's Roster by Their Stench
- The Esteemed Critic's Multiple Sentence Reviews
- Conan Brothers' Q&A
- Theme Park Mistress
- Hillsdale Paranormal Society
- Writer's Block
- Select Farmers Only Profiles
Friday, November 7, 2014
Grandma Howard's Thoughts and Prayers
Oh my. It seems my nice grandchildren have left the computer on. I am blessed. I don't know how to turn the infernal contraption on, and usually when it is running, I can't interrupt the bouncing ribbons on the screen without a little box asking for a password coming up. I thought I would use this opportunity to let everyone know what I'm thinking, and to whom my prayers go out to.
First I'd like to complain about the direction today's youth are heading in. My grandson Trent, whose friends call him "Shifty", is into the heavy metal music, as well as the hippity hop. When he plays that noise, the whole house shakes, which isn't good, because we have an unstable foundation due to the incessant tunneling of gophers, and we're about one extra tunnel away from having the whole place collapse. He's also taken to dressing in torn black clothing, putting rings in his nostrils, and speaking with Satan. I tried to have a priest come into the place to exorcise him, but the Reverend wouldn't go past the doorstep, because Trent had a girlfriend in his room, and they were making all sorts of racket. I chased the hussy out with a broom and gave Trent a good smack on the face, but the Reverend had left by then. I fear I'll lose the respect of the church due to the behavior of my grandson. But what can I do? He is possessed.
My other grandchildren are no better. Artemus drinks himself into a stupor every weekend, and then expects me to clean up the vomit. I made him sleep in the car last night. Let him wallow in his own filth for a while, and see that he doesn't clean up his act. An adult man like him ought to have a wife and a decent job by now. His brother Dwight is no better. He works at a pet store training dogs. Can you imagine a college graduate doing such work? He just doesn't apply himself. They're all like their father, who's living on an Indian reservation out in Arizona with a Swedish woman. He sent me a postcard and his hair was hanging down to his bottom. He looked like a fat Indian. I tell you, I just don't know where I went wrong. Heaven help me.
I'd like to include in my prayers this week the entire cast of Golden Girls. I don't know how those ladies are doing, but they've given me years of quality entertainment from the comfort of my home. Lord, please bless Betty White, as well as my grandson Trent, who needs the Holy Spirit in his heart to displace all the evil the devil has put there. Lord, I also ask that you hold our walls together and prevent the gophers from further destabilizing our foundations. Please, bring my son home to me, and don't let him turn into a fat Indian. Also, please let my cats find their way home. I don't know what I'd do without all fourteen of them.