Saturday, January 21, 2017

Trump's Bum and a Sack for Leftovers

"Mom, are you watching the inaugural parade?"

Just because she was sitting a few feet from the TV that happened to be blaring the parade didn't necessarily mean that she was watching the parade if you know what I mean.

"Yes.  But, they haven't shown any pictures of the president with his pants pulled down."

That is exactly what she said.

"No, they have not shown any pictures of President Trump with his pants pulled down."

That, by the way, was exactly my response.  I just go with it.  Just GO with it.

"Well.  I don't think that we should have elected a man that pulls his pants down in public and shows his bottom."

"Yeah.  That's probably right.  Showing your bottom in public is a bad idea."

"He pulled down his pants and had a paper sack tied around his backside."

What thuh?!  I was hesitant, nay...afraid, to ask the question, but I just couldn't stand the suspense.

"Why did he have a paper sack tied around his backside?!"

"For leftovers."

What?  Who is this woman?  I.  Just.  Where did she get this idea?  She's been telling me about Trump "mooning" for a while now.  The paper sack is new.  It's a nice little addition to the story.

Every time I visit, I do a little something to gauge her mental status.  The Trump's Bum with a Leftover Sack conspiracy has me thrown for a loop. I ask questions.  "Mom, what are your grandson's names?"  Check.  "Who's your favorite daughter?"  She answers, "You're my favorite living daughter."  Well done, Grasshopper.

Yesterday, during the Mr. Pants Down Parade, I came up with an idea to further investigate her mental status.  I deliberately put my feet on the arm of her pretty little loveseat.  Slowly, her head turned from the TV.  She looked at my tennis shoes for a minute then said, "Are those your feet on my couch?"

Lest you worry that she thought that they were Donald Trump's feet, you need to know that my mom had some hard and fast rules in her home.  We were to never sit on a bed because it ruins the bedspread.  We were to NEVER put our feet on the furniture.  Feet belong on the floor at all times.

"Are your feet on my couch?" roughly translates "Git yer stinkin' feet offa my couch, ya moron!"  Yup.  That's my mom.  I quickly put my feet on the floor.

As for you, President Trump, keep your pants on.  Little Miss Moral Compass is watching you.

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