WHAT i KNOW ABOUT BEiNG.
"i do naught recommend the scallop potatos & ham... it's bad for your right corrigated artery." ~ K.B.i.
the above is a quote from my father. I think it's translation might be, "i am a lonely old man who lost his marbles long long ago, please care for me."
"no! no! you are not my friend. i don't yike you... but i yove you, and i care for you." ~Z.Q.i.
he said this to a 38 year old "man" who was trying to play with my son. he was unsuccessful because the "man" was drunk, or stone, or probably both. Z.Q.i. don't put up wit' dat. two weeks later the same man was drunk in a bar where i quite unfortunately tried to hang out and work on some illustrations for a new pilot i'm trying to get done, but noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. the man got mad at me for being rude. duh. and screamed "blah, blah, blah, and you owe me that because you're my friend. RIGHT?!?"
silence on my part.
"RIGHT!?!"
And so I sigh a reply, "No, no you are not my friend --" and before i could finish with the amazing retort written by my little angel of a son, he said, "FINE!" and threw his beer in my face. The happy part was that none of my work got beer on it, and a good friend lititeralilly peeled off his shirt in 12 DEGREE weather (he's hairy) and gave it to me. And it wasn't even extremely smelly. Now i'm gifted with:
#1] the relief him the freak outa my life, forever.
#2] realizing a true friend really does give you the shirt off his back when you are soaked in beer and half naked in a parking lot in february in a town not a heck of a lot souther than the 2nd coldest place on a land mass on earth.
May my logic always be 4 + 1/2 years old.
iZiTiSWiTiS?
the above is a quote from my father. I think it's translation might be, "i am a lonely old man who lost his marbles long long ago, please care for me."
the below is a quote from my son, he is four + 1/2 years old.
"no! no! you are not my friend. i don't yike you... but i yove you, and i care for you." ~Z.Q.i.
he said this to a 38 year old "man" who was trying to play with my son. he was unsuccessful because the "man" was drunk, or stone, or probably both. Z.Q.i. don't put up wit' dat. two weeks later the same man was drunk in a bar where i quite unfortunately tried to hang out and work on some illustrations for a new pilot i'm trying to get done, but noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. the man got mad at me for being rude. duh. and screamed "blah, blah, blah, and you owe me that because you're my friend. RIGHT?!?"
silence on my part.
"RIGHT!?!"
And so I sigh a reply, "No, no you are not my friend --" and before i could finish with the amazing retort written by my little angel of a son, he said, "FINE!" and threw his beer in my face. The happy part was that none of my work got beer on it, and a good friend lititeralilly peeled off his shirt in 12 DEGREE weather (he's hairy) and gave it to me. And it wasn't even extremely smelly. Now i'm gifted with:
#1] the relief him the freak outa my life, forever.
#2] realizing a true friend really does give you the shirt off his back when you are soaked in beer and half naked in a parking lot in february in a town not a heck of a lot souther than the 2nd coldest place on a land mass on earth.
May my logic always be 4 + 1/2 years old.
iZiTiSWiTiS?
posted by iTWiTiS | 4:03:00 PM
3 Comments:
Your son reminds me of ideas I've toyed with: that when we are born, we already know so much, and, adults dealing with kids should realize that they should not actually be teaching, but letting the kids show them what they already know.
Of course, some kids have a lot of their intelligence locked away due to screwy things that have happened to them, either in that live or the ones previous.
As we grow up, some of us just recall more of what we already knew than others do. I think more and more of us are having to learn everything over again, because we can't figure out how to go back and pull forth all of what we already know.
Can you imagine sitting in an office here in 2005 and suddenly remembering what it was like to be Pharoah, or Hitler... or an "Indian" before Lewis and Clark?
(This all of course, is paying no heed to the concept of genetics.)
you've put yer head upon the nail in the forhead of my problem. i can remember what it was to be blah, blah, blah who did blah, blah, and blah, and is still floating around the ethers enough to be heard. i don't know where i get my shietze from, but whereever it ziz, i don't have shpell check. sigh.
if you want the most amazing genetics theory that has yet to be disproved, read Alex Podulke's "DNA & the Dancing Fool." then remember every great piss you've never had yet.
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