RaisingDad

A lawyer tells his client, "What do you want to hear first, the good news or the bad?"      “Give me the good news first,” you—I mean, the client—says.      "Your wife just found a picture that’s worth a million dollars! "      "That's GREAT! What can possibly be the bad?"      "It’s a picture of you having sex with that lady from the Hidden Yellow Cafe.”     RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com  American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene  

Your last two emails got me to thinking.      It doesn’t take much.      Anyway, why is it that a woman’s ailments that keep her from having sex always can’t be verified, and why is this sentence so awkward? Anyway, your wife suffers from her bad back. My wife suffers from her migraine headaches. My buddy Maloney's wife has her pains that make her cry out so loud that our father can probably hear her without his hearing aids.      Yet all strangely unverifiable.      I’m not saying that they don’t suffer from these ailments. I’m just saying that it’s pretty convenient that these ailments can’t be verified, visually or otherwise.      A broken arm, you can see.      Same with a gunshot wound.      That girl in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue with the missing leg, I’d understand if she wasn’t in the mood for sex. It must be exhausting for...

Your upcoming surgery reminds me of the emergency surgery you had a few years ago.      You had some kind of an accident, the specifics were never made clear, but the end result was your penis was lopped off by that elderly gardener you employ. He's--what?--98-years-old? He mistook it for a turnip or something, is what I heard.      They rushed you to the hospital. You were unconscious,  Your wife was told that another penis could be re-attached, but someone would have to donate THEIR penis in order for this to happen.      And what bozo is gonna do THAT?       She asked your best friend Mike Curry, but that was when he started coming down with Alzheimer's. He may have been mentally disadvantaged, but he wasn’t stupid.      "I would," he said, "but I'm already losing my memory, I can't afford to lose my tallywacker along with it."      "Don't wo...

When your doctor told you that you had a problem with your Anterior Horn, I'm sure your wife spoke right up and said, "He sure does, doc. The one in his pants !"      The way I heard it was that you're having an emergency addadictomy.      I would say THAT'S worth $50,000.      You know, we have a doctor right here by the name of Dr. Ebenezer Bombay. He's a naturopath. I used to see him back in the day. He can sell you some herbs and supplements that will fix that weak penis of yours. Your heart, too. For my heart, he advised me to take Lysine, Oxy-something-or-other, and to empty my wallet of all the cash it contained, because the weight was adding undue stress. You know what I did?      I got married.      That took care of the excess cash in my wallet.     Raising My Father RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com @J...

"What are you doing?" my father asked me.      Wait a minute... cancel that.      Let me begin by saying that I hate having to constantly sign up for new things on my old, out-of-date computer and having to constantly come up with different passwords.      Which is what I was doing.      "I'm trying to think of a new password, pop," I told him.      He had seen how stymied I had been for these last few minutes, so he couldn't resist rubbing it in a bit, "What's so hard about that?"      "It's just hard to come up with something unique that's easy to remember," I told him.      "Let me try," he offered.      My initial instinct was to say no, but I've learned that when you tell people no, they will quit offering to help.      "Okay," I told him, "but it has ...

Never gave it much thought, so I didn’t know about what could happen to a person if they came up short on their hospital bill payment in a third world country, but I do know about the possible risk of medical fraud in a foreign country        (i.e. Steve McQueen’s coffee enemas)   and financial fraud        (“You owe us $30,000.”      “THIRTY THOUSAND? You said TWENTY-FIVE!”      “Yes, but remember that glass of water you asked for...?”),   and what can we do? We’re strangers in a strange land, and don’t have Kim Kardashian to intervene for us with President Trump. I also didn’t consider that contributing to her Panama Vacation Fund might unknowingly be contributing to their death.      It makes my being cheap noble.       I’ve only heard of chemotherapy being used against cancer. I’ve never heard that it’s used to fig...

You know, it's funny about my buddy Louie.      When I fell, I got up and went back to work. When you fell, you got up and continued your life. My buddy Louie fell a few months back, and he hasn’t been back to work since.      When it happened, another co-worker showed me a picture Louie had taken to document his injuries and he looked like a sad Cantiflas after going eight rounds with Mike Tyson.      To be fair, he needed surgery on his wrist.      Have a safe trip back.      Mom was sad to see you go.      “Thank God he’s gone,” we’re her exact words.     Raising My Father RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com  American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene   

My lovely wife is an excellent cook.      When I look into our refrigerator, I see nothing to eat. My wife, however, can reach into anyone’s refrigerator and come up with a feast. Her leftovers are better than a gourmet meal at the snootiest of restaurants. My dad agrees with me, but he has a backhanded way of serving compliments.      One weekend, I was laid low with a nasty cold, so my wife made me a hearty stew. There’s no such thing as canned this or anything from a bag that with my wife. She loves to cook and cooking from scratch is the only way she knows how, so she prepared the meat, chopped up the fresh, carefully chosen vegetables, and dropped them into her favorite stew pot along with her unique blend of spices and herbs that Colonel Sanders would be jealous of. As the delectable concoction was simmering on the stove, the intoxicating aroma enticed my father from his chair in the great room into the kitchen, where he stood ove...

My dad was pretty tough in his youth.      These days, I could probably take him in a fair fight, but the fear he instilled in me as a young boy has me trembling at the thought of a fight with him, fair or otherwise.      Back when I was still in single digits, I came home crying because my best friend's father had booted me in the can. "Get the Hell out of my house!" he yelled. I had broken something. I don't remember what, but he must have been pretty fond of it.      When my father, who was in the street changing his car's oil, saw me crying, he immediately wanted to know who did it.      "Mr. Sanchez," I sniffed.      My father dropped his tools. They hit the pavement with an angry clank. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along to our neighbor's house, banging on the door when he got there.      Mr. Sanchez opened it, and stood there with a tough guy smi...