Conversations

I’m standing in the Wal-Mark check-out using my debit card, when a tall, skinny man with sunken eyes and goatee says…

Goatee: “Pretty soon we’ll be payin’ for stuff with a chip in our hands.”

Me: “What?”

Goatee: “I said, pretty soon we’re gonna be using a chip implanted in our hands to pay for stuff at Wal-Mart.”

Me: “Really? What makes you think so?”

Goatee: “Identity theft.”

Me: “What?”

Goatee: “That’s how they’re gonna get us to put chips in our hands; it’s the only way to protect against identity theft. That’s why people are gonna do it.”

Me: “Maybe you’re right. When we go to the implanted chip, an identity thief would have to cut off your hand if he wants to steal your identity.”

Goatee: “Yup.”

Me: “I guess it’s a good thing the chip isn’t in your head, huh?”

Goatee: “Yup. Wouldn’t work anyway.”

Me: “Really? Why?”

Goatee: “Gotta plate in there already.”

Me: “Imagine that.”

wherein I meet an aging (self-proclaimed) hippie while awaiting a tire rotation…

Hippie: (speaking to no one in particular) “…these gas prices are outrageous! You can’t tell me that Bush isn’t behind all this; nobody’s making more money on this than him!” … “Bush is the devil” …

You get the idea. I thought he was about to launch a gas price sit-in, then he transitions into a “Big Brother” rant.

Hippie: “…the government watches you through GPS and the Internet.”

Me: “You know, they are probably keeping tabs on you right now through the microchip in your digital watch.”

Silence. The hippie gets up from his seat and walks away. A few minutes later, I spy the hippie behind a tire display…

he’s examining his watch!

…wherein my granddaughter asks me to open a box of candy band-aids:

Granddaughter: “Bee-Pa, would you open this for me, please?”

Me: “Now you know your mommy said you couldn’t have any more candy…”

Granddaughter: “But they’re not candy, Bee-Pa.”

Me: “They’re not? What are they?”

Granddaughter: “They’re band-aids; you put them on your arm and then you eat them.”

Imagine BHO on Fox’s Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader? …

Jeff Foxworthy: “So, Mr. Obama, you’ve chosen 1st Grade Geography as your category and here’s your question: How many states are there in the continental United States?”

Barack Obama: “Well, Jeff, I’ve visited 57 states with one more to go, so that means there are 58 continental United States.”

Jeff Foxworthy: “Wow! You really aren’t smarter than a 5th grader!”

Funny, certainly, if it wasn’t true!

Campaigning in Oregon yesterday, Presidential hopeful, Barack Obama, claimed:

“Over the last 15 months, we’ve traveled to every corner of the United States. I’ve now been in 57 states? I think one left to go. Alaska and Hawaii, I was not allowed to go to even though I really wanted to visit, but my staff would not justify it.”

(there’s nothing more I can add to that)

MORE: Hot Air; Webloggin; Power Line; American Pundit; Stop the ACLU; Flopping Aces.

Her: “I feel so sorry for Brittney Spears!”

Me: “Why?”

Her: “She achieved her success so quickly and has not been able to adjust to it. She’s engaging in all this destructive behavior because she can’t find a way to cope. I think she really needs help!”

Me: “Actually, I think the explanation is a bit simpler…”

Her: “Really? What do you think?”

Me: “I think you can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl!”

Colonel: “…well, he’ll just be S-O-S!”

Me: “Sir, you mean S-O-L.”

Colonel: “What?”

Me: “S-O-L is shit-outta-luck; S-O-S is shit-ona-shingle. You mean, he’ll be shit-outta-luck, S-O-L.”

Colonel: “Yeah, yeah, S-O-L, that’s what I meant.”

Me: “You were saying…?”

Colonel: “Right, so anyway, he’ll just be S-O-S and…”

Me: { sigh }

First Sergeant: “Hey Chief, gotta minute?”

Me: “Sure, have a seat.”

First Sergeant: “What’s that noise? Is that music?”

Me: “It’s Maria Callas, ‘Casta Diva,’ from the opera Norma.”

First Sergeant: “Oh, for a second there I thought somebody was trying to kill a cat.”

Airman: “Chief, can I ask you a question?”

Me: “Shoot.”

Airman: “What do I need to do to get a ‘Medal of Honor’?”

Me: “Die.”

Airman: “Really?”

Son: “Dad, why do you drink beer? Is it because you like to get drunk?”

Me: “Did the D.A.R.E guy come to your school today?”

Son: “Yes. How did you know?”