I’ll talk at you next week…
Lester Aldrich – Those Damn Kids
Proud
A Man’s Ass Should Last His Entire Lifetime
I just want to say for the record on this world wide web I type on every week – FUCK MY COLOSTOMY BAG. FUCK IT ALL TO HELL!!
You see, sometimes old people like George Burns are allowed to smoke and function normally until they die peacefully at the age of 100 and others, like me, can’t shit past 80.
We had a bunch of assholes from my family (no pun) over to the house over the weekend to watch Tigers baseball and have a BBQ. It was a goddamned embarrassment and fucking lack of respect!
All day long I had to listen to THOSE DAMN KIDS from the neighborhood that my bitch of a wife invited and also my grandkids and great-grandkids giggle at the fact that Grandpa Lester could only eat Jello and was allowed only one beer (light beer!) the entire day!
I’ll say it again – FUCK MY COLOSTOMY BAG. FUCK IT ALL TO HELL!!
They grilled the burgers right in front of me and made big jokes as they munched on hot dogs and potato chips and all drank till they were drunk! May Satan fuck them all in Hell!
If it weren’t for Mrs. Aldrich’s ‘attention must be paid’ prayer mentioning me to our Lord, I would have felt that I was already dead.
Now I know why ol’ Dick Shepherd keeps trying to shoot himself.
I will always remember Spring as the season I lost the use of my ass.
I’ll talk at you next week…
Lester Aldrich – Those Damn Kids
I Once Ate A Man In Korea
I once ate a man in Korea. I’d prefer not to go into details. The Pentagon told us never to discuss it. I obey my orders from the Pentagon unlike all these pussy generals that parade onto CNN and talk about how we’re not fighting the war right. Shut the fuck up! – with all due respect – sirs!
Anyway, I once ate a man in Korea. The whole man. Like the Indians with the buffalo, I used every piece of that unlucky son of a bitch.
It was a freezing spring day in 1952 when the “incident” occurred. Eighteen inches of snow, frozen roads, sub-zero temperatures. I saw a man’s face shatter like ice when he was shaving with a rusty razor. Brutal. Goddamned brutal. So rather than die of starvation and loneliness – I ate that dead Korean.
All THOSE DAMN KIDS know how to do is fall off their skateboards and throw dog shit onto my lawn.
I’m going to mark the edge of my property with sulfuric acid so the next time Snotty Scotty falls on my grass the skin will fall right off his ass! That’s what that punk deserves and that’s what I want to see!
I’ve heard stories that people from Michigan are cannibals by nature. I’m not sure if that’s true or not.
I haven’t eaten anyone since 1952. Mrs. Aldrich hasn’t eaten anyone since 1986 (that’s a joke). It was closer to 1982 (that’s also a joke). As far as I know, she’s never eaten one person. But she’s from Iowa. And people from Iowa are more interested in chicken.
Days like this make me sad.
THOSE DAMN KIDS giggling like gorillas and rolling down my street on their fat bodies will never know what it’s like to be really hungry. I mean REALLY hungry. So hungry that you’d… well, you know…
The sacrifices I made just so they could go to Arby’s…
I’ll talk at you next week…
Lester Aldrich – Those Damn Kids
The Long-Haired Homosexuals From Cuddly Creatures Came By Yesterday
The long-haired homosexuals from Cuddly Creatures™ came by yesterday with some animals that we could pet for the afternoon. The bleeding ass liberals started this program to comfort the lonely and old with an hour or two of furry love.
My retarded son and his wife, Tokyo Rose, feel that we are too old to handle the responsibility of a little pet, so we have these queers come out once a month with animals because Mrs. Aldrich likes to pet cats.
That’s all well and good. But every damn time the van pulls up, THOSE DAMN KIDS from the neighborhood flock around and follow those Peter Pipers into my house like some freakshow version of Pied Piper. “Can we pet your cat?” They’d say. “No!” I’d say. “Get your chocolate and marijuana hands out of my house!”
But those butt pirates always let the kids in on Mrs. Aldrich’s action. They all have a high-ho time petting these drugged up cats who just lay there waiting to die.
The one with the orange spot on his nose, Sprinkles, is Mrs. Aldrich’s favorite.
Snotlick from two doors down thinks the way to hold a cat is by the arms. Seeing that cat hang there in agony reminded me of so many of my buddies who had to endure Japanese torture chambers.
I looked at that cat. That cat looked at me. With my eyes I told that cat not to worry, Snotlick will be dead soon.
Mrs. Aldrich always cries when they take the cats away. That’s the only reason I let them come back every month.
As Cuddly Creatures™ pulled away, and Those Damn Kids returned to throwing rocks at squirrels, I decided to go to bed.
I’ll talk at you next week…
Lester Aldrich – Those Damn Kids
The Last Day I Was Happy
The last day I was happy was August 3rd, 1976. Maybe down the line a piece I’ll tell you what happened on that day. But not today. I’m too sick and tired to talk about something happy.
The Spartans have broken my heart again in the NCAA tournament. Next year, they will do the same – if I live that long. It’s always cold as Hell in this God forsaken Michigan! I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.
THOSE DAMN KIDS can do whatever they want to me and Mrs. Aldrich today… I just don’t care.
If you want to throw rocks at Mrs. Aldrich… well then goddamned get on with it!
If you want to stick vegetables in the tailpipe of my car… then knock yourselves out!
If you want to dump wet cement over my rose bushes again – it’s all yours, boys!
If you want to stick super glue under the door handle of the car so Mrs. Aldrich’s hand gets stuck again – nobody named Lester is going to stop you!
I’m not going to kill them today because I just don’t care enough to kill.
This is my 86th March 25th and whoop-ti-fucking-do, what a day it is. Bring on the Slivovitz.
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 (and will not) be held responsible.
I Have A Goddamned Brown Spot The Size Of A Saucer On My Stomach
I have a goddamned brown spot the size of a saucer on my stomach. I don’t know what the hell it is. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t affect my ability to empty my bodily waste into the colostomy bag. But it’s annoying as hell to look at.
Dick Shepherd’s got brown spots all over his body. He never seems to complain about them. That’s what I like about ol’ Shep. He’s only got one quarter of a lung left, half a kidney, six fingers (out of possible ten) and just one eye (and he’s damn near blind out of the other). If ol’ Shep doesn’t complain, then neither will I.
THOSE DAMN KIDS have really outdone themselves over the last week. Snotty Scotty has discovered stink bombs and loves to throw them in Mrs. Aldrich’s flower beds. She cut half of one bush down because she thought they stank like the worst fucking shit ever (my words).
Every time Snotty Scotty throws another one it reminds me of Korea. If I get hold of that little bastard, I’ll tell him about the stench of burning flesh. That will teach him. I wish we could keep a record of smells like a movie can capture images from the past. If these stupid kids could just smell some of the horrors I’ve smelled, they’d treat me with the respect I deserve.
April is nearly here and I can only hope I’ll be dead before May. I don’t know how long it takes little brown spots to work their magic, but it won’t be soon enough as far as I’m concerned.
As far as my plans for the rest of the spring go, me and Mrs. Aldrich will be in the bomb shelter eating beans and talking about war.
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 (and will not) be held responsible.
You Know You’re Getting Old When You Start Bleeding From The Ass
Don’t fret, idiots, that’s not the subject of my column today – as always, it’s THOSE DAMN KIDS!
However, when I am bleeding from the ass (e.g., this morning), my hatred of those damn kids grows tenfold! The picture of the elephant on the toilet is not meant to amuse you – it’s to educate you about my daily battle with the toilet.
Let me know give you a little insight into my day. I get up at 4:30am and will have read the entire Lansing State Journal rag by the time most of the goddamned pipsqueaks on my block have crawled out of bed and had their first bowl of frutti-tutti flakes.
Every morning, me and Mrs. Aldrich sit on our porch and watch dumbfounded as those little jerks scrape dogshit off their sneakers and onto my lawn.
The vicious cycle starts with the parents of those little Hitlers. Wine swilling, middle class asshole who let their little yap dogs (with their craps the size of Lake Michigan) shit on my sidewalk without cleaning it up. Come rain or shine, those damn kids step in it every morning, then they say “ewww”, scrape it on my lawn then skip off to school so they can learn how to piss on the flag.
It doesn’t matter if it’s on a day when my ass is bleeding or not – IT DRIVES ME FUCKING CRAZY!!!
But don’t cry for me. As long as I have blood in my veins and bullets in my gun, I’ll always have the upper hand against THOSE DAMN KIDS!
I’ll talk at you another time…
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 (and will not) be held responsible.
Things Aren’t As Funny As They Used To Be
Here it is, another morning that I managed to wake up. Jesus fucking Christ. Oh, well…
As I edge toward my 90s, things aren’t as funny as they used to be.
It’s not as funny when Mrs. Aldrich falls down the steps. She gets hurt now and I have to get out of my chair to do something about it.
It’s not as funny on the Archie Bunker show when they flush the toilet. It used to be so funny. But that was 40 years ago.
It’s not as funny when I see Those Damn Kids fall down on their skateboards and break their legs. There was a time a few years ago when I would laugh for days when that happened. Now it’s just a couple of chuckles and I’m done with it.
Maybe it’s this terrible recession and my retirement savings going down the drain – or maybe it’s my horrible eyesight and my inability to see the television too clearly – or maybe I’m just dying and that’s just not as funny as it used to be.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
I’ll talk at you next week…
Lester Aldrich – Those Damn Kids
It’s New Year’s Eve…
I’m going to drink from a bottle of Slivovitz until I become unconscious.
I’ll talk at you next week.
Lester Aldrich – Those Damn Kids
It’s Christmas Eve…
I’m going to drink from a bottle of Slivovitz until I become unconscious.
I’ll talk at you next week.
Lester Aldrich – Those Damn Kids