I’ve gotten several emails about the "Tough Neighborhood" post. Not because it’s a true story and funny as hell, no, I’ve been berated about saying my dad beat the shit out of me constantly. Of course he didn’t. I was just trying to get some laughs. But I did get my ass kicked daily at school, and some times my dad laid into me. Not because he was an asshole, but because I deserved it. Every time I got my ass kicked by my dad I deserved it. I didn’t think so at the time, but looking back on it I deserved every swat...
My dad’s gone now for some twelve years. I still can remember his last words to me.
"Tommy, that shotgun is loaded!"
No! I didn’t shoot my dad. But he’s not around and I need the laughs, so fuck him!
Again, I didn’t kill my dad. He died in his sleep some twelve years ago. I miss him terribly some times. But knowing I turned out just like him is comfort enough. I think the key to immortality is to always be remembered. If you're remembered, good, bad or indifferent, you’ll live forever in someone’s memories.
My dad had several sayings my brother and I call "Dadisms". Have you ever seen the movie "A Christmas Story"? Well, if you have, the character played by Darin McGavin is my dad. He could curse and swear better than anyone I’ve ever met. And when he got really angry it got even better. It wasn’t just what he said, but it was the phrasing. He was quite creative, and sometimes even today I’ll find myself saying the same stuff when I’m angry and I haven’t a clue what the hell I’m saying.
Here’s a few:
"God damnit to hell and shit color!"
Well, The first part I understood even as a five-year-old. But ‘shit color’? What the fuck is ‘shit color’? But again, I find myself saying it.
This one, although not really swearing, was one of his ubiquitous sayings.
"He/She talks like a man with a paper asshole."
Now to this day I haven’t a clue what that really means, but God, I’ve met quite a few people that it fits perfectly. I've even added my own little nuance to it:
"He/She talks like a man with a paper asshole in a forest fire."
The worst one, by far was:
"Jesus jumping Christ Almighty!"
That in itself wasn’t too creative, but what got my ass kicked more than anything was The Poem. See, my brother Bobby is almost exactly ten years older than I am. When I was six he was sixteen. He made up this poem and told it to me once, and every time after that when my dad would start on one of his tirades... I’d get the giggles, and that would only inflame my father even more. So I got whooped worse when he was particularly colorful in his language. He’d get mad and start swearing, I’d start laughing my ass off. Hence, I’d get beat worse.
The poem you ask? Here it is.
Jesus jumping Christ almighty
A mouse ran up my fucking heiny!
Bit my dick
And made me shit!
Jesus jumping Christ Almighty!
Not exactly award-winning prose, but to a six-year-old it was hysterically funny. And my brother thought it was even funnier to see me get the living shit beat out of me and I’m still pissing my pants laughing at the same time.
I still smile when I think of that. Not because of my asshole brother laughing at me getting my ass kicked, or even the ass kicking itself. It reminds me of my dad, and no matter how imperfect he was, he was still my dad and I love him still and miss him. But I’ll always remember my dad, and in that he’ll live on. He’s not really gone entirely. He’ll always be with me a little bit.
I miss you dad.
Now, could you please send me a message telling me what the hell "Shit Color" is?
Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden
My dad’s gone now for some twelve years. I still can remember his last words to me.
"Tommy, that shotgun is loaded!"
No! I didn’t shoot my dad. But he’s not around and I need the laughs, so fuck him!
Again, I didn’t kill my dad. He died in his sleep some twelve years ago. I miss him terribly some times. But knowing I turned out just like him is comfort enough. I think the key to immortality is to always be remembered. If you're remembered, good, bad or indifferent, you’ll live forever in someone’s memories.
My dad had several sayings my brother and I call "Dadisms". Have you ever seen the movie "A Christmas Story"? Well, if you have, the character played by Darin McGavin is my dad. He could curse and swear better than anyone I’ve ever met. And when he got really angry it got even better. It wasn’t just what he said, but it was the phrasing. He was quite creative, and sometimes even today I’ll find myself saying the same stuff when I’m angry and I haven’t a clue what the hell I’m saying.
Here’s a few:
"God damnit to hell and shit color!"
Well, The first part I understood even as a five-year-old. But ‘shit color’? What the fuck is ‘shit color’? But again, I find myself saying it.
This one, although not really swearing, was one of his ubiquitous sayings.
"He/She talks like a man with a paper asshole."
Now to this day I haven’t a clue what that really means, but God, I’ve met quite a few people that it fits perfectly. I've even added my own little nuance to it:
"He/She talks like a man with a paper asshole in a forest fire."
The worst one, by far was:
"Jesus jumping Christ Almighty!"
That in itself wasn’t too creative, but what got my ass kicked more than anything was The Poem. See, my brother Bobby is almost exactly ten years older than I am. When I was six he was sixteen. He made up this poem and told it to me once, and every time after that when my dad would start on one of his tirades... I’d get the giggles, and that would only inflame my father even more. So I got whooped worse when he was particularly colorful in his language. He’d get mad and start swearing, I’d start laughing my ass off. Hence, I’d get beat worse.
The poem you ask? Here it is.
Jesus jumping Christ almighty
A mouse ran up my fucking heiny!
Bit my dick
And made me shit!
Jesus jumping Christ Almighty!
Not exactly award-winning prose, but to a six-year-old it was hysterically funny. And my brother thought it was even funnier to see me get the living shit beat out of me and I’m still pissing my pants laughing at the same time.
I still smile when I think of that. Not because of my asshole brother laughing at me getting my ass kicked, or even the ass kicking itself. It reminds me of my dad, and no matter how imperfect he was, he was still my dad and I love him still and miss him. But I’ll always remember my dad, and in that he’ll live on. He’s not really gone entirely. He’ll always be with me a little bit.
I miss you dad.
Now, could you please send me a message telling me what the hell "Shit Color" is?
Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden
2 comments:
Man, that was one of the funniest blog posts I have ever read! Isn't is wierd how now as adults we can look back fondly on those days when we used to get the shit beat out of us by adults. Good times man, good times.
Holy christ almighty that is some funny-colored shit! Thanks for the laugh, buddy.
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