July
16th, 2007
Steven is
my oldest friend, no pun intended. We only went to school together
for a single year and we weren't even in the same grade, but if
I ever wake up covered in blood with a trunk full of dead hookers,
Steve's my first call.
He's also,
come Friday, a hemiseptuagenarian.
Anytime he fills out a questionairre for the next 16 years, his
pen will hover longingly over the 18-34 box, before grudgingly
checking 35-50.
There is no box after that for ad people. There is only the merciful
release of death.
When Steve
and I were kids, it was customary for the birthday boy or girl
to receive "paddywhacks"
from their friends. For anyone who doesn't know, you had to crawl
on your hands and knees between the legs of a gauntlet of classmates
eager to slap your ass and scream "PADDYWHACK!"
Does this
still happen in schools? I'm guessing... no. Which
is a shame, really, as I can't think of a better way to:
1) Encourage
children to explore the S&M lifestyle
2) Incite violence against the Irish
You see it
too, right? I mean, the refrain from This Old Man might as well
be knack-knick,
punchamick. I
can make these jokes because I'm part Irish. Unfortunately, reading
them makes you a bigot.
Happy birthday,
brother.
-Graham
