Too busy playing frogger on your smart phones to take a nap. Back in my day we didn't have smart phones or the internet or dee-vee-dees. If we wanted to listen to hippidy hop music we needed wait four decades for it to be invented and then go to a record shop to pay for it and there wasn't no listening to it on the way home because we didn't have record players in cars then.
Back when I worked at NASA I told my friend Cubby O'Hulahee -- who everyone just called Grimes for short -- that we should design some sort of high tech ketchup bottle for the Apollo missions. "Grimes," I said, "how in the blue blazes is Gus Grissom gonna eat his steak and potatoes without ketchup?" Everyone knew how much Grisson liked his steak and potatoes and I'd already invented him a tiny grill he could take up in space with him so he wouldn't have to eat that freeze dried crap. Turns out some punk ass kid named George Foreman stole my idea and made a bunch of money off it. More fool me, I guess.
Anyway, Grimes -- who everyone just called Grimey for short -- was a tall guy, mind you, and he needed to wear hearing aids just so he could make out what short people were saying. Now Grimey -- whose name was actually Cubby O'Hulahee (can't remember if I already said that) -- forgot to change the batteries in his hearing aids, which back then we called ear-lengtheners (the hearing aids, not the batteries). So when I said, "We need to make a ketchup bottle for Gus", he thought I said "We feed a Chechen dottle on a bus". Now, not many people know what dottle is. It's the sticky residue burned tobacco leaves behind in in your pipe. And a pipe is what we used to smoke things from. No high tech bongs for us, thank you very much. So Grimes says to me, "I don't care what you do on your own time, Al, but if you're hanging out with the Ruskies you really ought to keep it yourself." And he says this because back in our day we didn't have namby-pamby terrorists trying to kill us. We had Russians, and Russians were scary because they had nuclear bombs that could incinerate an entire city in the blink of an eye. And kids these days are scared of a bunch of clowns cutting peoples' heads off with butter knives and posting color-corrected and professionally edited recordings of the proceedings online where anyone interested in subjecting themselves to PTSD can find them. What a bunch of wimps, I say. People were tougher back in my day.
Did you know when I was a kid food was so scarce my mom used to feed us rocks? It's true. She made a terrific gneiss soup. Her spaghetti and granite balls left something to be desired, but it was better than nothing so we didn't complain. People were tougher back then. We didn't complain about anything. All young people do today is complain, complain, complain, complain. What a bunch of complainers. Why can't they be like me. I don't complain about anything.
Wait.
Who are you again?
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