Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Just like those young whipper snappers there in Washington D.C. Granny leaves for awhile, and all the horses get out of the barn, the pigs out of their pens, and the chickens out of their roosts and everything breaks loose.
I been taking care of business. The weather's been bad, and I been nursing people and talking to family over there in New York. And now it's bad in other places, and Granny has to go where she's needed. But these fellers in Washington, now this is getting bad.
So I gets on the phone, and there he is on the other end, and I remind little Johnny (he keeps reminding me he is Representative John Boehner, but for me he's just another grandbaby getting into trouble) again that Granny isn't going to stand for this nonsense much longer.
John, you know when some of your friends started calling him names and saying he didn't belong in our place, that he wasn't even born there (and you and he was friends growing up, so you know better), well that must have made him feel bad. And his friends got mad. So you got to make up now and get that business done, or the people are going to start hurting all over the place.
Why those boys don't get along, I just don't understand. They knows there's gonna be trouble for everyone.
"Granny, it ain't just my fault, "John is whining again, and now he's going to cry. He thinks when he cries that I won't get that switch on his behind, but he's got another thing comin' when Friday rolls around if Granny sees he don't do something soon and kiss and make up with his cousin, Barry.