Paranormal Romance Book Clubs and the Like
So I was on the phone with Do Y’all Have a Late Night Porn Package? and we were discussing the blog, paranormal romance book clubs and the like, in a humorous fashion. Then the subject of Hitler came up. Hitler is a former friend of Mr. Late Night Porn Package. Not the real Hitler, of course. That would be like saying he was friends with Elvis, quite sure, despite rumors, that they’re both dead. Anyhow, Hitler is a moniker we’ve given to said friend of Mr. Late Night Porn Package. And for good reason, as this friend used to date Mr. Late Night Porn Package and there was an incident one night relating to Hitler. Not in a direct Third Reich type of sense either. In this type of sense: they were in bed together one night and Mr. Late Night Porn Package was reading a book set in Nazi Germany (can’t remember which one). The friend asked what the book was about and Mr. Late Night Porn package replied, “Hitler.” The friend then inquired as to who Hitler was. Seriously. What person, over the age of say, seven, doesn’t know who Hitler is? Shocking. Of course Mr. Late Night Porn Package told everyone this story. We told him he wasn’t allowed to date anyone who was so stupid that he didn’t know who Hitler was. I mean, really. Come on. This guy’s too stupid to live. Don’t know how he’s getting through life. Mr. Late Night Porn Package felt a bit sorry for him, I guess because they were dating at the time, and came to his defense with something along the lines of well, you know, he’s from Mexico. The entire country of Mexico hasn’t heard of Hitler either? I find that hard to believe. Even the third world is aware of Hitler. He agreed with that.
I could go on and on about Mr. Late Night Porn Package. He is the funniest person I have ever known. His current dilemma revolves around moving and his “good things”. He does have a treasure trove of good things. If anyone needs a king sized bed the size of a yacht, please let us know. Or some $42,000 antique mirrors. The smoky kind. And several luscious divans. I love that word. Divan. Reminds me of my grandmother, y’all come sit on the divan and tell me about your day. Took me a while to figure out she was talking about the couch, covered in plastic, naturally. Just kidding. Not really. Only the couches in the living room were covered in plastic. That living room was like a morgue. I think I only went in there twice during my entire childhood. Guess she was always saving that room for a papal visit. The off chance of that, of course. It also took me a while to figure out why the Baroness in The Sound of Music was always referring to Christopher Plummer as “Gayorg”. That was a mystery to me for years. Then, finally, recently, light bulb. It’s because his name is George, dipshit.
Wow, this just in from Mr. Late Night Porn Package: “I don’t believe rumors of a New York Times sale. Least of all to a Mexican.” – Rupert Murdoch. Harsh. Even for Murdoch. He’s referring to NYT shareholder Carlos Slim, a billionaire. Slim denied rumors that he was going to buy the company. The quote from Murdoch – still harsh.
All over the map with this blog today, I realize. My apologies. But, as always, a small Skinhead update to close: Mom came to visit last weekend. We were tooling through the alley in the Cadillac and I slowed down so she could get a good look at them. They were out in the alley doing whatever it is that they do back there. Skinhead Senior was wearing a skullcap. Mom commented on the “fuzz on his face”. Well put, as he does have some indefinable growth action going on. Not a beard, not a goatee, not a moustache, guess it’s his version of a soul patch…
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