El Paso just had its annual three day event we like to call “Fall.” I’ve read about other places having something similar that people call “Autumn” and lasts so long they consider it an entire season but, I don’t know, that could be Fake News.
The El Paso Times was way ahead of the curve on Fake News. And it’s still dancin’ with who brung ’em. There was just a Page 2 article headlined “US Embassy flys flag at half- staff” about how the US Embassy in Cuba did not fly the flag at half-staff. The editor did edit out the first word, though: “Psyche!”
Then I read an interview with Mr. President (if that IS your real name) complaining about Fake News to a magazine BEING SUED A GAZILLION DOLLARS FOR PUBLISHING FAKE NEWS!
So I’m getting in on this and recently became a columnist for El Paso legend Rich Wright’s online magazine “El Chuqueno.” I’m now paid HUGE bread for my stupidity and that streak across the sky is me on my meteoric rise to stardom and the sound you hear is me yelling “See ya suckahs!” But I will remember you fondly when I accepDAAAMN! accept my Pulitzer.
I recently developed Tourette’s caused by a torn bicep tendon and rotator cuff. Inappropriate words fly out of my mouth at the most appropriate time (when pain shoots through my arm). Those around me may have a different opinion, though. But they’re wrong. Like the first Dr. I saw a year ago who said it was Tendonitis. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt but he wasn’t Patch Adams, so the rule is: Just . . . No. So I finally went to another Dr. and this happened:
Dr: “You need surgery.”
Me: “What’s the recovery time because I have to play guitar in Spain on The Greatest Album Ever Made.” (Some of that or all of it or none of that may be true)
Dr: “What kind of music?”
Dr: “Really!? Were you in a band before?”
Me: “Yeah, we were called Rhythm Pigs.”
Dr: “I LOVED YOU GUYS! And Jerry’s Kidz from Albuquerque! I was just thinking about their song DWI. (starts singing) Drinking and driving, American as apple pie.”
Me: “When you’re in the obituaries we’ll know the reason why.”
Both of us: “DWI, That’s how I think I’ll die! BWAHAHAA!”
When we walked out of the exam room, all the nurses were staring, mouths agape. He also said “Let the pain dictate what you do.” So The Pain dictated “DRINK WHISKEY, STAT! AND LOTS OF IT!” So TX whiskey is now being delivered to my house in barrels. And the rule is: If your Dr. sings old punk rock songs with you, Just . . . Yes.