I traveled this past weekend to Hilton Head to visit my wife’s relatives. The 7-year-old Hurricane boy and 9-year-old princess found out we were leaving for the beach and ran the car down before I could get out of the driveway.
Actually, I did plan to take them too, but decided somewhere around Metter that impending deafness could not arrive soon enough after listening to those two for 4 1/2 hours. My children are firm believers that you may not be right, you may not be interesting, but by God you are going to be heard.
As we arrived at our destination, a very nice, gated, retirement community, they began to discuss this subdivision. The Hurricane said children were not allowed in the place. The Princess said, no, children could come, but only for a few days. This lead to Mama explaining the rules of the subdivision — i.e., no one under 55 could live there, no permanent children, certain design specifications etc. This led the Princess to ask, “What kind of place do my Aunt and Uncle live in that won’t let children live in it?”
The Hurricane replied, “Don’t you know anything? They live in a giant nursing home.”
And so it was, I enjoyed two days of rest, relaxation and libation in perhaps the world’s largest nursing home. I’m pretty sure I’m headed to one and if I have to go, I only hope it will be in Hilton Head. But before I do, I must first survive until after the presidential election.
This may not be easy based on all the emails I have received warning of what will happen after the election if Obama is re-elected or what will happen if Mitt Romney is elected. I will now provide you with the condensed version of what will likely transpire the day after the election.
All my guns will be confiscated, but it won’t matter to me because contraceptives will be banned and women will be back to having 10 and 12 babies again, which will make the Duggar family happy and everyone else miserable.
Most will die in delivery, as the Obama health care death panels function like Roman emperors at a gladiator fight giving thumbs up or thumbs down. I may be dead anyway, having been pushed off a cliff by the Republican plan to kill all grandmothers cause you know rich folks don’t have grandparents and hate old folks.
Only the rich will be taxed and I won’t care, being that I am unrich — and unricher by the day — because the tax increase on only the rich somehow got me anyhow.
Hoards of suicide bombers will attack the U.S.A., most driven to this act by being subjected to non-stop political ads for the last three months.
General Motors will pay back the $50 billion it still owes to the government right after Lindsay Lohan finishes up rehab, but not one second sooner. I will still not get any stimulus money, but some company somewhere will get millions and then go bankrupt.
Teleprompters will be required at all future debates and Republicans will no longer be able to mention the word “rape” and “abortion” in the same paragraph, provided they can string enough sentences together to create a paragraph to begin with.
Donald Trump will announce that he has important news; it will not be that he has joined Hair Club for Men.
The country will continue to spend money like a death row inmate with an unlimited credit card and a 24-hour weekend pass. Iran will not get a nuclear bomb, just like North Korea didn’t get one and Pakistan didn’t get one, and just like Charlie Sheen is completely sane.
Come to think of it, I will go ahead and enter the nursing home.
But bring me by an absentee ballot so I can vote. Don’t ask for an I.D. ‘cause that might disenfranchise me. But enough of this. I can’t keep typing. I’ve got to get out my billfold so I can show my I.D. to check out a book here at the library.
Contact columnist T. Gamble at firstname.lastname@example.org.