“Yesterday, June 26, 2014 — a date which will live in infamy — the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by military forces of Mexico. But, that’s okay, they apologized.”
“Where did everybody go? Twenty minutes ago we couldn’t sell fast enough and now there’s not a customer in sight”, said my uncle as he stood outside his ice cream shop.
My Uncle Rudy had a knack for taking an item and making it better. When a new frozen custard place opened up, Foster’s, most people thought that their product was delicious. Uncle Rudy? He thought he could do better and he did.
A little bit of this and little less of that and Rudy had a soft serve ice cream that was not just a little better, it was incredible.
“Open up a shop, Rudy” and he did about a six blocks from Foster’s.
Not much of a building, not much of a store but the soft serve product Rudy made had people lining up around the block.
“Hey, Rudy, what’s the name of your place?” they’d say between licks of their cones.
So while I filled cone after cone after cone Uncle Rudy went home and in about an hour came back with a sign that said, “Dairy Queen” which brought a cease and desist order in about twenty minutes.
More paint and it became “Dairy King” which took about 30 minutes for legal action.
Dairy Princess, no.
Dairy Prince, no.
Dairy Maid, no
Dairy Lass, no
Dairy Lad, no
Dairy Kid, no
Dairy Island, no
Dairy Duchess, no
Dairy Fairy, no
And so it went until the cost of sign paint was eating into the store’s profits. Rudy was getting frustrated and thought that maybe he would just have a “no-name” store but the city insisted on a name so back to work on a name while the lines got longer and longer.
Dairy Knight, no
Dairy Goddess, no
Dairy Lady, no
Dairy Clown, no
Dairy Queen Mother? no
Then, finally a name that stuck with no legal paperwork showing up. The problem was as soon as the sign went up the line of people waiting to get in disappeared.
“Where did everybody go?” Rudy asked as he looked up his latest sign. “My frozen custard is better than Foster’s”
“Maybe it’s your sign, Uncle Rudy, —-Dairy Foot?”
A solution to the undocumented person, illegal alien problem may be sitting right in front of us. Before the nation goes through battles on what to do with the millions who have crossed our borders illegally why not announce that effective immediately the United States will reestablish a universal military draft for all men and women living in the United States between the ages of 18 and 35.
Not only will there be a mass exodus of those who have entered the United States illegally but that massive wave of humanity heading south over the border should create a wall that will keep the next group of illegal aliens out.
Simple enough. A problem solved.
I like two or three lightly breaded fresh fish fillets fried until the fish is crispy but no more served with hot, crisp french fries and what do I get? Heavily seasoned, square cut pieces of over-cooked frozen fish served with limp fries.
This time when I look at the menu and see “our English-style fish and chips” I don’t fall for it and decide to go instead for the “grilled Gulf grouper with sweet potato croquettes” and what do I get? A piece of fish only slightly larger than a Chiclet with a drizzle of some kind of green sauce sitting in the center of a plate which is about three quarters the size of a manhole cover with three little croquettes that should have been hush puppies and a daisy sitting next to the fish.
“How is everything?” asked our waitperson, Cindi with an “i”.
“The daisy’s delicious can I get another?”