The Occasional Joke

Nurse: Patient's name?

Centurion: Marcus Licinius Crassus

Nurse: And his date of birth?

Centurion: 115 BC.

Nurse: All right. And what is he here for?

Centurion: Cataphract surgery.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Mr. Creek Remembers

Editorial note: the following transcript (and a couple more to come) are from the Creek Archive, at the University of Michigan's Creek Library, reprinted by permission of the Curator and Executrix, Amanda Lostwithiel Creek, CISSP.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for ... Mr. Elijah Creek!

Well, good evening. I'm happy to greet all my fellow members of ... the Veterans of Foreign ... affairs.

I don't know just how many of you there are out there ... literally. How about a show of hands. Everybody who's actually here, raise your hand. Hmmm ... nobody. Just as well. Easier that way. Don't have to be as funny.

You know, when I was a boy, we remembered things. You young folks today, you don't remember so much. I say to kids now, "DO YOU REMEMBER THE WAR?" and they say, "Sure we do." And I say, "WHICH ONE? I'M TALKING ABOUT THE WAR OF ... 1812!" And they say, "What? Were you in the war of 1812?" And I say, "HELL NO! BUT I REMEMBER IT."

Now that was a war. World War one and two ... pff ... what's that? Add 'em up, all you get is three. Now, war one thousand eight hundred and twelve, sir, that was a war. And think of all those other wars in between, war 1811 and war 1810 and all. Nobody remembers them. But 1812 ...

When I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with all these gadgets and doo-rabbies and the Internut. The Internut. That's that bunch of connections and tubes and so on. Makes it easy for people to stay in touch, they tell me. Steal things, too. I tried to get on Facebook, but they took one look at my face, and they said "no!" ... I had to settle for ass book. They couldn't see that.

Anyway, when I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with gadgetry ... we were obsessed with sex. And whiskey. And peanut butter. We used to have peanut butter parties. Get all peanut buttered up and go out and try to catch Indians. We'd sneak up on 'em. But they could smell the peanut butter on our breath. So they'd get away. Never did catch any. Probably just as well. And what would you do with an Indian, anyway, if you did catch one? Take him to the Indian Pound? Wait for somebody to adopt him?

Now I don't know how many of you out there are rightists. Leaners to the right, so to speak. Can I have a show of hands. If you're right handed, hold up your left hand.

When I was a boy, we didn't think much of left handed people ... lefters, we called 'em. We didn't think much of 'em 'cause we didn't know any. If you were a lefter, you pretty much stayed in the closet. It wasn't a very big closet ... sometimes somebody would come out. I knew one young feller decided to come out to his father. Walked right up to his old Pa and held out his left hand: "HELLO, PA!" he said. His dad turned him in to the Indian Pound.

Back then, we had foreign policy that really meant something. The President used to say, "Speak loudly and ... often," I think it was. Whack 'em with a stick if they weren't listening. And if all else failed ... which it did ... why, you'd take a ship and pack it full of resin and ... chicle ... and natural latex products. Send it off up their rivers ... called it gumboat diplomacy. Didn't work worth a damn, as I recall.

But you know, it's real important to remember things. It's important to remember what I'm tellin' you here tonight. Cause, if you don't, you won't be able to tell me about it later on, when I ask you what I was talkin' about. All you'll be able to say is that some old guy was talkin' about Indians and peanut butter and ... lefties. And I won't believe you.

No comments:

Post a Comment