“Would you be so kind” I asked The Old Ball and Chain, my voice dripping with sarcasm “to vacate MY chair and MY computer so I may write MY column?”

“No” she replied curtly

“What’d I do this time?”

“Well” Old BC was fully wound up “Normally I’d insist it’s OUR chair and OUR computer but, since you’re being so legalistic, you vowed to endow me with all your worldly goods so it’s MY chair and MY computer. I’m writing next week’s column for you.  It’s time your female readers (both of them) learned the truth about you.”

There was no point in fighting so I sought and received a right of reply and left her to her own devices.

Ladies, Old Grey Balls is now officially insufferable.  He has become 100% dinosaur.  He may not realize it but I can play Jeff Foxworthy as well as he can.  For example, you KNOW you’re a dinosaur when your son’s friend (spending the day) politely asks to use the phone to call home but, after 15 minutes, returns to you in deep distress because he can’t work out how to use it.  Why? It’s a rotary dial phone and he keeps trying to punch in numbers.

“You KNOW you’re a dinosaur when you refuse to visit a friend (who just gave birth) until she stops breast-feeding.  You KNOW you’re a dinosaur when you’re still playing 78 rpm records on an HMV Gramophone. 

“Now, I must tell you about the last scrabble game.  My sons and I played regular Sunday afternoon scrabble while Old GB watched NFL. Or the Cubs. Or cricket. Or golf. Or whatever sport, including chess, poker, bridge or tiddlywinks, was on TV.

“Now that my baby [GR: That’s SputNik, the youngest] is living in MoBay, we rarely play so I asked Old GB to make up a fourth. He grumbled incessantly (something about Lewis Somebody in a car taking pole in a particular position) but agreed to join.

It wasn’t long before Douglas [GR: That’s The Computer Whiz, the eldest] played out his hand on three consecutive turns. Yes, you read right, three consecutive turns.  Naturally, there was much whooping and hollering and Andrew [GR: The Ampersand] might have called Old GB ‘simple-minded’ for insinuating that Douglas was cheating. What Old GB actually said, well shouted, was: ‘RACKET! T’IEF! I want a Stewards’ Enquiry!’

Old GB flung down his tiles and refused to play with what he called ‘Morons, crooks, and scions of Rodney Dangerfield’. I asked him what English teatime treats had to do with scrabble which drove him to his favourite indoor sport (well, second favourite) of rolling his eyes.  He stormed off to his air-conditioned study to watch Formula One racing. I haven’t been able to drum up a scrabble game since.  You KNOW you’re a dinosaur when you still use words like ‘scions’ but can’t beat any of your children at scrabble.

“Now this Zika thingy. He’s more paranoid than ever. Between 5-8 (a.m. AND p.m.) he walks around carrying a plate containing lit mosquito destroyer. The other day I woke up and saw him surrounded by fog and told him I thought he was Florence Nightengale.

“During those hours, he keeps mosquito destroyer permanently burning in bedroom and bathroom. Otherwise, it’s air-conditioning or fan. Last month’s electricity bill was monstrous. Yet, he keeps saying he doesn’t believe there’s a link between Zika and Microcephaly/GBS paralysis which he insists were known to medicine decades before Zika existed.

Kill me.  I protect myself and my family from Zika. Do I get thanks? Or credit? Of course not, all I ever get is “No respect!”  It has NOTHING to do with Microcephaly/GBS.  I take these protective steps because the cost of maintaining Old BC and her hungry horde is so excessive that I can’t afford sickness or to test my theories on myself.

My best defence of my rejection of links between Zika/microcephaly/GBS is my favourite girlfriend, Olympian Juliet Cuthbert-Flynn, who lives in mosquito heartland (Portmore).  She became pregnant at 50+ and, on August 7, delivered a beautiful baby girl with ten fingers, ten toes and a brain bigger than Trump’s. No sign of microcephaly anywhere.  Juliet, you are Woman.  You do it all without a hint of hostility towards men. Kiss Zara for me!

As to Old BC’s scrabble game, NOBODY plays all seven letters three consecutive times without considerable help.  Now I know where the DNC learned how to rig primaries!

Peace and Love


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