Here I am again, visiting you in the sweet cemetery in Harlan. I enjoy our talks and often judge your reaction in R.O.’s (Roll-Overs – How many times you must roll over in your grave when I tell you what’s happening in the world).
I just had to talk to you today because I know you need a good laugh. I have a true story you’re just not gonna believe.
More than ever before, truth is stranger than fiction. Often, I find myself saying about an incident, “If someone wrote this in a book, no one would believe it.” That is what I think about what I am about to tell you. Hold on now, Grandma; please don’t roll over until I am finished and out of the way.
There is a man who is running for mayor of New York. He had resigned from Congress several years ago, having been caught texting pictures of his male sexual organ to strangers.
Texting? Well, that is a means by which you can send messages or photos to another person via your cell phone. (Yes, I know. I have explained cellphones to you before.)
But here’s the funny part. His name is Weiner. Anthony Weiner. Isn’t that hilarious? (When we were in grade school, that is what we called a man’s you-know-what, Grandma.)
When Weiner (LOL) was caught doing that, he resigned from Congress, and he promised not to do it again. I think his wife put him in time-out for a while, but that obviously didn’t do him any good because now he is running for mayor of New York.
And, Grandma, he has now confessed to texting naughty pictures of himself again, even though he promised everyone he wouldn’t do it again!
Now here is another roll-over: This time he signed his messages Carlos Danger! Is that too funny?
He really is a slight man, Grandma, and I can’t figure out why he really doesn’t realize what a — well — wiener he really looks like. Many people are calling him a narcissist, but I think that’s just a polite term for his problem. Political correctness won’t let us use terms like “stupid” or “idiot” or “dumbbell” anymore, so we use kinder, more “correct” terms like narcissist or self-delusional.
His wife forgave him in front of the whole world on television, but I know, Grandma, that if you were alive, you would think his wife should hit him on the head with a skillet then introduce him to Lorena Bobbitt. That would surely solve the problem.
Well, I’ll keep you posted on the New York mayoral election. If he wins, I’m going to New York and sell them a bridge. I’m leaving now, so roll over all you want.