You know, nothing gets my dander up like an inspirational desk calendar or bumper sticker.  Or it would if I didn’t have the sneaking suspicion that dander is the stuff in pet hair I’m allergic too.  My point is, if life were so easy you could get a leg up on it in two sentences there wouldn’t be war or bigotry or reality television.  With that in mind, I’ve given some thought to a handful of aphorisms, because like water to a wicked witch, thought tends to make those bad boys go away.

“When God Shuts a Door, He opens a Window”

But sometimes first he greases the sill and then hides behind the couch, jumps up shrieking like a woman in childbirth and laughs Himself sick when you go scooting out and into the pricker bush he caused to grow there with his miraculous God Powers, unless of course there was already a pricker bush outside the window to begin with.

Often on a journey your Dad wants to make good time.  Don’t drink anything for at least 24 hours before succeeding and bring a jar with you.

Yeah, yeah, and between the two you chop wood and carry water.  You
know who came up with that?  The CEO of chopping wood and carrying
water, that’s who.

Especially if one leg is a little longer than the other.  ‘Cause then, see, you’d tend to walk in a circle.  If, like me, you’d like your exploring to actually take you somewhere, you may need orthopedic hiking boots.

Which is really annoying if the song is “The Wind Beneath Your Wings” or anything by Journey.

Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.  But here’s the thing, Chum-o.  What about when life gives you Crap?  ‘Cause here’s something every kid with a roadside stand needs to know early on: A tall, cool, glass of Crapade is just about  as palatable as the Crap was before you mixed it with ice and sugar.  Didn’t I learn that the hard way.

Tell that to Giles Corey...You know, Giles Corey?  The Salem Witch trials?  Hello?  See they wanted him to confess he’d signed his name in Satan’s Book, and to kind of encourage him they kept loading stones on his chest and they’re all “Hey, Giles, how about confessing and we can quit loading stones on your chest” and he goes “More weight” until eventually his whole chest caves in which back in those days was always pretty lethal.  And while we’re on the subject, you know what else God never gives me?  Job security, a functional lower back and hot, teenage girls.

If that were true, wouldn’t Marmaduke be funny sometimes?

You know where I’d like to leave a footprint?  Right in the Patoot of the fella that wrote that poem.  “Oh Jesus,  Jesus, where were you when things were real bad for me?”   “I WAS CARRYING YOU.”  Funny thing, last time someone was carrying me, when I looked down? THERE THEY WERE!  I could be wrong about this, but I’m pretty sure when I kicked Thunderbird Jesus wasn’t behind the dumpster holding my hair while I puked.  No, I’m fairly certain the only one with me at that point was this fella went by the handle ‘Airplane Bob,’ and unless Jesus makes his presence known by snoring, wetting himself and crying for his Mama, I’m guessing they’re not the same person.

Unless you’ve gone blind during the night in which case it’s pretty much gonna just stay darkest forever.  Think about that next time you’re waiting for the sun to come up.

Sure, but suppose you go fishing for me every day.  I could really get behind that.  Oh, crap!  Suppose you die before me? Listen, you’re going to have to get your kids in on this whole fishing for me deal.

Hmmm.  Here’s another thought.  How's about letting my fist be YOUR umbrella?  ‘Cause a fist and a smile are just about equal in the whole ‘keepin’ rain off a fella’ department.

I hope this has helped at least a little.  If not, what do I care?  Do I look like the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” guy?  Screw you anyway.  You want inspiration?  Kids starving to death in the Sudan want a Hoagie.  Or Grinder.  Sub Sandwich.  Whatever the hell you call it where you come from!  Oh, now, I’ve hurt your feelings.  Well what about my feelings?  Did you think of that before you came around here looking for uplifting sentiment?...Look, don’t cry.  Stop crying, I’m sorry.  Here, have a cookie.

I have got to start getting paid for doing this.

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