By Dick Platt
Corsicana Daily Sun
Everyone has a day, or days, when this sad commentary is totally appropriate. With some folks it’s problematic hair flying around, drooping down, or falling out. Some folks live with constant pain — it’s like everything on them hurts and what doesn’t hurt, doesn’t work. There are lots of folks who have never learned to play golf or bridge as if they were just games. The following are some classic examples of having a bad day that I have collected:
You’re having a bad day if you never get any mail except junk mail — and it comes with postage due. This can cause many bad days and serious loneliness can result — especially around the holidays when you start getting Christmas cards addressed to “Current Resident.”
You’re having a bad day when you end up losing on “The People’s Court.” You just can’t get much lower than that. It’s like making the list of the nation’s “Ten Best Nobodies.” It they ever write your life story it will be about “The Man Who Started at the Bottom — and Stayed There!”
You’re having a bad day if you fall in love with a lovely woman who says, “I want you to be the father of my children.” Then, two weeks later, she skips town and leaves her two kids for you to look after.
You’re having a bad day when you take too many tranquilizers to keep from worrying about paying your psychiatrist’s bills. You started seeing the shrink when you were just slightly cracked — now you’re completely broke. In one way you are fortunate — you could go completely out of your mind and no one would know the difference.
You’re having a bad day if, during courtship, you held hands with The Little Woman out of love and affection — but now, after years of marriage, you’re holding her hands in self-defense. When you throw your arms around her now, it’s to keep her from swinging. When she fixes you a Bloody Mary, she uses your blood!
Ba-dum-dum. You’re right, I’m just being silly but it makes me feel good once in a while. With me, the truth is like a chubby woman’s girdle — it’s made to be stretched. I take such liberties with the truth, I could easily get a job as a weather forecaster. When I get into one of these rants, my advice is you should only believe half of what I say. You’re problem, of course, is figuring out which half. Please keep in mind that my motivation each week is to amuse my readers as well as inform them. The truth is often stranger than fiction and when that is not the case, I tend to make it scarcer than fiction.
Here’s a real-life “bad day” experience to end with. A man is busy working at his job arranging produce in the supermarket when a nice looking woman walks up to him and, after reading his name tag says, “Hello, Mr. Anderson.” Bob is a little bewildered but he shakes her hand and says, “I’m sorry but I can’t place who you are. Do you know me?”
The nice lady says, “My name is Veronica and I think you’re the father of one of my kids.” Bob’s mind whirls back to the only time he ever had a fidelity indiscretion since he became engaged to his wife some 15 years ago. He blushes and replies, “Oh, you must be that stewardess I met in Las Vegas at my bachelor party and we ended up in the hotel hot tub with a gallon of margaritas and spray cans of Ready Whip.” Then he got deadly serious and told her, “I want you to know that I have been happily and faithfully married for 14 years and I am the proud father of two kids of my own. In this case, I truly hope you will abide by the golden rule that says, ‘What happens in Las Vegas, stays in Las Vegas.’”
The woman looked him in the eyes and said very calmly, “No, you have it wrong Mr. Anderson, I am Veronica Jackson and I am your son’s 5th grade teacher.”
Wow, you talk about having a bad day. Old Bob Anderson just had the granddaddy of all bad days. OK, OK, I lied about this one too. When I get on a roll, I just can’t help myself.
I will leave you with this one bit of indisputable truth that host Michael Smith uses to close out “Numbers Never Lie” on ESPN.
“Two wrongs do not make a right, but three rights will always make a left.” Think about that one.
Dick Platt is a Daily Sun columnist. Want to “Soundoff” on this story? Email: firstname.lastname@example.org