Thursday, October 20, 2011


My Uncle Buster congenially referred to me today as a “Mooch” via text.  It hurt my feelings. I can think of no reason in the world that he'd say such a thing other than this: I have successfully mooched off him for 31 years.  However, Ahem. I prefer the term “Professional Interloper.” 

“Mooch” is just so crass, don’t you agree? It sounds slimy and I am most certainly NOT slimy.  Perhaps a touch “musty” or “goatish” on occasion, sure, but never slimy. 

Well, generally not slimy. I got home today from my second “Sleep Study” at Piedmont Hospital to investigate the source of my potentially terminal snoring - and hopped into bed. A disembodied hand reached out from beneath the covers and patted it's way up my neck face and ears, then mussed my hair (ostensibly to determine if I were friend or foe) until suddenly sticking fast, glued to my forehead. 

Ewwwwwwww WHAT IS THAT?!  Tyler shuddered – now wide-awake, pillows erupting in a shrieking crescdendo of goosedown.  YOU HAVE SNOT IN YOUR HAIR!

Apparently the Sleep Study Technician didn’t clean the electrode glue out of my hair.  My bad. I’m just the critically-ill person here. Didn’t mean to offend you with my illness.

Anyway, THAT was slimy, but in general – I reiterate: Not Slimy.

It’s not that I haven’t TRIED to pay my way here and there, but picking up lunch when somebody just planted your cornfield for free are two friendly deeds separated by a little matter of magnitude.  It’s just that the things I like to do cost WAY more than I’ve got to spend. What am I supposed to do? Quit doing them and only do things I can afford???

BAH! I’m an American!

If I can’t afford it, but I want it anyway – then OTHER PEOPLE MUST PAY FOR ME!  It’s in the Constitution.

It’s my God-Given right to kiss on the first date, drive 10 miles over the speed limit with no repercussions, spend more money than I’ve got to do things I can’t afford and maintain a lifestyle of general excess and frivolity.  If people like ME don’t keep up our frantic pace – there’d be nobody to buy Ferraris on credit, rent snowmobiles, or fly to the moon just for fun.  THEN do you know what happens? West Nile. Swine Flu. Mumps. Rubella. End Times. Everybody starves to death. 

The bottom line is: I’m not Mooching. I’m stimulating the Economy! So, don’t do it for me: Do It For America.

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