April 2010 Archives
In 1944, I was ordered to go to Spain after five months of heavy fighting in eastern France. I counted 35 kills in my personal quest to get to the Rhine but my fuck-ass superior officer thought I was 'over-zealous' in my hatred for strangers and told me to take a break from killing.
My superior officer was a pussy - but I won't smear his name here -
he was, after all, a decorated hero in the war to end all wars (WWI)
and a valuable member of the super-duper war to end all wars (WWIl). I
think Captain Ralph "Ol' Pussy" Jackson (oops) would have been
ashamed of himself if he actually thought the allies would win. But I
think he always thought the Nazis would win, so he hedged his bets.
We can only hope Ol' Pussy Jackson is burning in Hell now for being weak. Though I don't think Satan would have much to do with him. What does Satan need with pussy ass weak field commanders?
Anyway, I was ordered to go to Spain. Southern Spain. The only
thing I knew about southern Spain was nothing. I knew
they ate goat brains and pig feet but that was it.
I wasn't expecting
to see "La Trucha" (The Trout). La Truca was a flamenco dancer. And
she was the love of my life. And I don't give a shit if Mrs. Aldrich reads this!
I never knew a dance could seduce me so.
Once you are in "La Trucha's" grip you pretty much have to kill her to get out. I spent five
glorious days with "the trout" and then I had to leave and kill more
Nazis. Ol' Pussy Jackson came to his senses and realized that the Nazis had to be killed. La Trucha
tried keep me with her by threatening my life with her high-heel
nail-studded Flamenco shoes. But I got away... yep... and I'm not
saying what happened to La Trucha on that September night in 1944.
Fuck La Trucha! She might have been a double agent for all I knew. Fuck that bitch! As long as Nazis are alive, I must kill them. I would have killed La Trucha - the love of my life - if she were a Nazi. I would kill my mother if she were a Nazi. ALL NAZIS MUST DIE! Don't try to win me over with your flamenco crap. It won't work! SCREW YOU, LA TRUCHA! No fish will defeat democracy!
I realize this has nothing to do with THOSE DAMN KIDS, but sometimes you have to kill others in order to kill yourself. Capisce?
I'll talk at you next week...
Lester Aldrich is a freelance columnist for Octogenarian Magazine. Manka Bros. Studios is not responsible for any action by our freelance writers. If Mr. Aldrich actually kills someone, that's his problem. Manka Bros. cannot be held accountable.
There's not a man outside waiting to kill me if I step out of my house and there's NOT a terrible flu virus killing off the old people of the world (Swine Flu is for pussies!). The only problem, as I see it from my front porch in eastern Michigan, is THOSE DAMN KIDS!
When John Glenn circled the world in the Friendship 7 in 1962, there weren't kids on skateboards jumping over your car or riding bikes on your lawn. The only kids I saw back then were saluting the flag. The only kids I saw back then respected their elders.
Look here, I can remember 1928. How many of you assholes can say that? (ed. note: non-octogenarians, that is)
I remember when things were really bad. When children cried when they were hungry and policemen were corrupt. We've won six wars over the past 80 years (eight if you count Iraq and Afghanistan!).
What have the 12 year-olds of today done? They broke my front window for one. Yep, they sure did that.
Hit Mrs. Aldrich in the legs with a ball. That sure was "cool".
Ding dong ditch 'em? Oh, you bet.
Flaming manure? 12 bags, 12 days.
One day, Mrs. Aldrich and I were on our way out to movie and little Snotty Scotty got it into his mind to throw firecrackers at Mrs. Aldrich. Real classy, Snotty. You're lucky she lost her hearing years ago, jerk!
Kids at the supermarket yell at me for parking in a handicap spot. I haven't straightened my right leg in 20 goddamned years, fuckers! Of course I'm handicapped!
I hate the kids of today. I wish they were all dead.
No, there's no Seven Plagues of the Bible or Four Horsemen of the
Apocalypse coming to destroy the world. The only thing that will
destroy this God forsaken planet is THOSE DAMN KIDS!
I'll talk at you next week...
Lester Aldrich is a freelance columnist for Octogenarian Magazine. Manka Bros. Studios is not responsible for any action by our freelance writers. If Mr. Aldrich actually kills someone, that's his problem. Manka Bros. cannot be held accountable.
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