Teresa: “Pierre told me that he found a large, brown stain on the trousers to your new Hickey Freeman suit.”

John:

Teresa: “John, he said that the stain looked and smelled like shit.”

John:

Teresa: “Don’t just sit there staring at me like some kind of idiot. Did you shit yourself or not?”

John: “No. … Well, … maybe I had an accident.”

Teresa: “No? Maybe? This is not ‘Meet the goddamned Press.’ I want a straight answer. Did you shit in your pants?”

John:

Teresa: “It was the Zell Miller speech, wasn’t it?”

John:

Teresa: “Johnny, I know I’ve been a bit hard on you lately, so I bought you this present.”

John: “Oh, how nice of you! Thank you, Teresa.”

Teresa: “Open it.”

John: “My God, Teresa. Flip-flops?”

Teresa: “BWAHAHAHAHA”

John: “Why do you hurt me so, Muffin?”

Teresa: “Because I can, you pathetic fool.”

John:

I came across two letters that I wanted to pass along:

“A letter to a friend” – Dustbury

“Dear Matthew” – Azygos
I find that people speak their minds in letters.

Go read.

I will not be preparing a special 9/11 Post. For me, it’s not necessary. I wrote one last year, and the fact is that I carry the memory of that day with me every day. I suspect that most people do, particularly those of us who lived close to the carnage.

I did not spend this day attending any 9/11 ceremonies. Rather, I spent today attending the funeral of my brother-in-law, Ted, whom I have known and lived in the same town with for the past 34 or so years. He had been suffering from multiple medical problems for the past several months, and the problems cumulated and became, at the end, impossible to treat.

To the world, he was a regular guy, who worked hard for years until he was able to retire. During the Korean War he was drafted, and, like millions of others before and since, he showed up and did his duty honorably. However, while he may have been a regular guy to the world at large, he was a very special guy to his family. He leaves behind his wife, two grown daughters, a son and a brand new daughter-in-law (he made it to the wedding a month ago), all of whom loved him very much, and he loved them back. They did him proud.

His other love was baseball. He regularly attended local baseball games, and it didn’t matter whether the players were seven or seventeen. He just loved the game. He was particularly blessed when his son excelled at baseball in high school and college. I don’t believe that he missed any of those games. Later when his son became a college baseball coach, you could always find Ted at the game, giving “pointers” to his son and to the players.

He would have been pleased to know that his son’s college baseball team showed up at the wake with a signed baseball and a team jersey emblazoned with the number “1.”

I wish him an eternity of good weather, close games and a comfortable seat behind home plate.

Teresa: “Dan Rather is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”

John:

Teresa: “Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. You’ve been in this goddamned bathroom for more than two hours. Come out of there and answer the phone.”

John: “Can you take a message?”

Teresa: “No, I can’t take a goddamned message. He said he wants to talk to you now.”

John: “Oh, God. What does he want?”

Teresa: “What does he want? What the hell do you think he wants? His exact words were, ‘I want to talk to that son-of-a bitch about those fucking documents his guys sent over here’.”

John: Tell him I’m windsurfing.”

“Do you think we run a fuck’n valet service?”

That is what a Garden State motorist claims a toll collector on the New Jersey Turnpike said to her when she asked where she could make a U-turn.

The Smoking Gun has a collection of actual complaints filed with the New Jersey Turnpike Authority about some of our more endearing toll collectors.

And the southerners think they have the market cornered on hospitality.

Jersey – Only the strong survive.

Thanks to DynamoBuzz for the link.

Teresa: “That was Hillary on the phone.”

John: “She called you?”

Teresa: “Asshole, there you go again with that mouth. Why wouldn’t she call me? I have plenty of oh-PIN-ions on lots of things.”

John: “Sorry, Muffin. What did she want?”

Teresa: “Well, if you must know, she did call to speak with you. But, while I had her on the phone, I told her that when we move into the White House, I intend to replace the domestic staff with my people.”

John: “You told her that?”

Teresa: “Yeah, and I told you that many times already.”

John: “I know, Muffin, but I thought we could discuss……”

Teresa: “Discuss? You must be out of your mind.”

John: “Well, what did she say?”

Teresa: “She laughed her ass off. I hung up on the bitch before she could say anything.”

John:

It appears that the “recently unearthed” documents that were used on the recent 60 Minutes broadcast to cast doubt on the legitimacy of President Bush’s military service were forgeries, and bad ones at that. There are too many links to list, but a good place to start is over at Power Line. Scroll, read, and follow the links.

John: “Please pass the ketchup.”

Teresa: “Is that some kind of sick friggin’ joke?”

John: “Just a little playful teasing, Muffin.”

Teresa: “Watch your step, sonny boy. I’ll cut your sorry ass loose in a New York minute.”

John:

John: “Owww! My back is killing me.”

Teresa: “Christ! There you go, whining again. I told you to have Pierre call Doctor Jameson.”

John: “I did. I did. ….. PIERRE!”

Pierre: “You called, sir?”

Teresa: “Pierre, you look like shit. Your apron is wrinkled and you need a shave. I will not tolerate that in this house.”

Pierre: “I’m sorry Madam. But, just as you directed, I have been up all night on eBay buying up copies of Master John’s book.”

Teresa: “That’s no excuse. You’ll just have to work more efficiently. Now, what about the doctor for the Senator?”

Pierre: “I called, Madam. Dr. Jameson is not seeing patients. It seems that he is too busy with litigation.”

John: “Dammit, Pierre. Go call Doctor Nussbaum.”

Pierre: “I did, sir.”

John: “And?”

Pierre: “He will be giving a deposition for the rest of the week.”

John: “Call Dr. Green. I’ve known him for years. He’ll see me right away.”

Pierre: “I called Dr. Green, sir, and he is in meetings with his lawyers.”

John: “Goddamned ambulance chasers. Get me John Edwards on the phone. He must know at least one doctor who will treat him. I really need a doctor.”

Pierre: “I called Senator Edwards, sir, but I could not reach him.”

John: “What the hell do you mean you could not reach him?”

Pierre: “He’s in court, sir.”