Kids These Days

Kids These Days

The Scene: Several Moms and Dads waiting in front of a daycare center, just before being let in to pick up their children.

Here is some of their overheard conversation:

“We love reading time.  She’ll just get up into the bed and read a whole stack of books.  And she’s only 11 months!”

“That’s wonderful!  Mine loves to read too.  Right now he’s going through the classics: Gulliver’s Travels, Peter Pan . . .”

“Mine’s doing his dissertation on Dostoevsky.  The University says they want to give him a scholarship as soon as he learns to walk.”

“Well, mine was walking since she was only two months old.  She’s now figure skating.  She’ll be in the next winter Olympics.  She’ll be the youngest ever, at only 3 years old.”

“That’s wonderful!  Maybe they’ll score her on the new mathematical scoring system that my son developed when he was only 6 months old.  It’s a quantum statistics program that actually solved the mystery of PI…”

“That sounds like what my daughter just did with the medical field.  She just developed a new non-invasive laser procedure for brain surgery.  MD Anderson wants to hire her as President.”

“If we’re talking about medicine, my son amazed me SO much.  He had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, and he unwrapped it himself and then gave me a Caesarian section IN UTERO!  Then, when he crawled out, he stitched me up himself and didn’t even leave a scar!”

“That’s incredible!  That’s almost like my daughter, who at two months had read everything Stephen Hawking ever wrote and then disproved it completely.   She’s already given directions to NASA and MIT on how to build a time machine that will completely alter the SPACE/TIME CONTINUUM!”

“Mine already did that when he was still a zygote.   We’ve lived alternate versions of this same reality for millennia now.”

“Aren’t kids just so smart these days?”

“They sure are!”

Poem of the Day: and so the blast made us . . .

and so the blast made us
look again, turn around and look over our shoulders,

at the entrance to the Metro that we had just left.
and there were then some

people staggering out, covered in dust, some
covered in blood,

not always their own.
and then there were military

running toward us, past us, down
the stairs into the tunnel and

we reached out to the people who had staggered out,
and we sat them beside the wall,

we pulled our water bottles out of our backpacks
and we gave them what we had to drink,

The medics arrived and began to
take charge and direction of

all the others who were coming out of the Metro
tunnel, and the medics looked at us

and asked if we were all right, we
then realised that we too

were lightly coated in dust,
had faint flecks of blood,

our ears ringing and our eyes burning, we were
indistinguishable from the rest.









MR
2016-0322

Overheard at Table 1: Immigrants

All this talk about immigrants and illegal immigrants and building walls and all that crap.  Can't stand it.  Why?  Let me tell you why:

I know a woman.  81 years old.  From El Salvador.  She lives here.  She's lived here in the states for over 20 years.  She lives off of welfare.  Yeah, that's right.  She gets food stamps and health care.  Her kids pay for her house and her utilities.  She sold her business to come here.

So, you'd all think "She's living off of OUR stuff!" OK, well, let's take a look at it.

She had five kids.  She got them all sent here to go to college in the 70s and 80s.  One of her kids is an engineer.  Designs electrical grids.

One of her daughters started a hospice business.   Helps the elderly stay in their homes.   Another daughter works in international banking, making a lot of wealthy white people a lot more wealthy.  

Another son works for a Mom-n-Pop oil company.  Instead of remaining local, he expanded them into Colombia, making all of them a shitload of money.  Her other son owns his own landscaping business.  Works for all the rich houses, museum district.  

Now, THAT son has two daughters.  One of them is a nurse and the other is a dentist.  The nurse is an ICU nurse, and she helped my family as we sat there watching my father die.  She held our hands and she brought us tea and she was there for us.

So, whenever ANYBODY talks about immigrants - either legal or illegal - in the way of "they're taking our stuff" those people need to shut their ignorant mouths, because they have no fucking clue what they're talking about.  Because you never know what these immigrants have done for this country, by having their children or relatives or themselves here, working in our communities, giving back, building whatever, making other people money, or just being the only nurse on the entire floor who actually gives a shit while your father's heart stops and the body grows cold.

So next time you hear somebody talking smack about immigrants, just let them know that their minds are tiny, tiny, tiny, like their black black hearts, and let them know that they will never know just how much an immigrant might have made their lives as good as they are.

Well, at least that's MY take on the whole thing anyway.

Overheard at Table One: Foreplay and 3 Minutes

Joseph: Overheard this woman at work and she was telling another co-worker, "He's a three-minute guy but he makes up for it with some AWESOME foreplay, and I thought, "Man, if my wife heard that she'd say, 'Hey, are you sleeping with my husband?'"

Monica [sips her coffee]

Joseph: Wouldn't you?

Monica: Wouldn't what?

Joseph: Say that to her?

Monica [slight grimace]: Well, honey, I'd have to say that - yes - you ARE a three minute man, but your foreplay ... could use a little work.

Joseph: It's not "awesome" ??

Monica [reaches over and pats the back of his hand]: But you know I love you!






-
From the Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 60, Track 9
Tracey Chapman - Give Me One Reason

Overheard at Booth 5: Got the Contract

Guy 1: So, did you get the contract?

Guy 2: Yeah, I got the contract.

Guy 1: Cool.  Who's the mark?

Guy 2: Kinda who we supposed it was gonna be.  The frontrunner.

Guy 1: Not bad.

Guy 2: Well, it's kind of a bummer.  I was gonna vote for the guy.

Song of the Day: Dropkick Murphys "Going Out in Style"

DROPKICK MURPHYS

"Going Out In Style"

(feat. Fat Mike, Chris Cheney and Lenny Clarke)

I've seen a lot of sights and traveled many miles

Shook a thousand hands and seen my share of smiles

I've caused some great concern and told one too many lies

And now I see the world through these sad, old, jaded eyes

So what if I threw a party and all my friends were there?

Acquaintances, relatives, the girls who never cared

You'll have a host of rowdy hooligans in a big line out the door

Side by side with sister barbara, chief wells and bobby orr

I'd invite the flannigans

Replace the window you smashed out

I'd apologize to sluggo for pissing on his couch

I'll see mrs. mcauliffe and so many others soon

Then I'll say I'm sorry for what I did sleepwalking in her room

So what if I threw a party and invited Mayor Menino?

He'd tell you to get a permit

Well this time tom I don't think so

It's a neighborhood reunion

But now we'd get along

Van Morrison would be there and he'd sang me one last song

With a backup band of bass players to keep us up all night

Three handsome four string troubadours and Newton's old Fat Mike

I'll be in the can having a smoke with Garv and Johnny Fitz

But there's a backup in the bathroom 'cause the badger's got the shits

You may bury me with an enemy in mount calvary

You can stack me on a pyre and soak me down with whiskey

Roast me to a blackened crisp and throw me in a pile

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

You can take my urn to fenway spread my ashes all about

Or you can bring me down to wolly beach and dump the sucker out

Burn me to a rotten crisp and toast me for a while

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

Make me up dress me up, feed me a big old shot

Of embalming fluid highballs so i don't start to rot

Now take me to Mcgreevy's, i wanna buy one final round

What cheap prick would peel an orange in his pocket

Then hurry up and suck 'em down

If there's a god the girls you loved will all come walking through the door

Maybe they'll feel bad for me and this stiff will finally score

You've got the bed already

And nerve and courage too

Cause i've been slugging from a stash of desi queally's 1980s bathtub brew

You may bury me with an enemy in mount calvary

You can stack me on a pyre and soak me down with whiskey

Roast me to a blackened crisp and throw me in a pile

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

You can take my urn to fenway spread my ashes all about

Or you can bring me down to wolly beach and dump the sucker out

Burn me to a rotten crisp and toast me for a while

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

You may bury me with an enemy in mount calvary

You can stack me on a pyre and soak me down with whiskey

Roast me to a blackened crisp and throw me in a pile

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

You can take my urn to fenway spread my ashes all about

Or you can bring me down to wolly beach and dump the sucker out

Burn me to a rotten crisp and toast me for a while

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

You may bury me with an enemy in mount calvary

You can stack me on a pyre and soak me down with whiskey

Roast me to a blackened crisp and throw me in a pile

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

You can take my urn to fenway spread my ashes all about

Or you can bring me down to wolly beach and dump the sucker out

Burn me to a rotten crisp and toast me for a while

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

You may bury me with an enemy in mount calvary

You can stack me on a pyre and soak me down with whiskey

Roast me to a blackened crisp and throw me in a pile

I could really give a shit - I'm going out in style

Spread all my ashes about

Dump the sucker out

Toast me for a while

I'm going out in style

Overheard at Table 2: After Lawn Mowing

A mom brings in her son to the Z&T Café after he had mowed the lawn for her.


Son: I had to pick up all the leaves.

Mom: Excellent.

Son: With a broom.

Mom: Well, good!

Son: Which SUCKED!

Mom: Poor baby!

Son: You don't have to sound so sarcastic.

Mom: Who's being sarcastic?

Son: You are.

Mom: All those leaves . . . with a BROOM!