Juneteenth

So today we celebrate a brand new federal holiday for the first time, the ghastly-named Juneteenth. In case you’re wondering how I feel about it…yes, we absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt, should celebrate the end of slavery. End of story. But..Juneteenth?? Why not Emancipation Day?

Now, on to a subject of far less controversy—in 18 days Pam and I will be leaving for Maine, our car loaded to the max, doing its best Beverly Hillbillies impersonation. A lot can happen in 18 days which could play havoc with our plans. One or both of us could come down with COVID. Our house could be struck by lightning. Lucy could become plagued by uncontrollable diarrhea. These are among the many nightmare thoughts that plague my dreams in the final days before leaving for the north. Its almost as if I become paranoid. I start to feel like one of those end times geeks, preparing for the four horses of the apocalypse to be released. I become suspicious of any and all packages delivered by UPS or FEDEX. God knows what could be in one of those packages! And don’t even get me started on the U.S. mail!!

Anyway, if my writings over the next couple of weeks start to sound more unhinged than usual, keep this in mind. I offer this blanket apology in advance.

To begin this week off right, I ran across a great joke the other day:

A man boarded an airplane and took his seat. As he settled in, he glanced up and saw the most beautiful woman boarding the plane.

He soon realized she was heading straight towards his seat... As fate would have it, she took the seat right beside his.

Eager to strike up a conversation he blurted out, " Business trip or pleasure?"

She turned, smiled, and said, "Business. I'm going to the Annual Nymphomaniacs of America Convention in Boston."

He swallowed hard. Here was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen sitting next to him, and she was going to a meeting of nymphomaniacs.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he calmly asked, "What's your business role at this convention?"

"Lecturer," she responded. " I use information that I have learned from my personal experiences to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality."

"Really?" he said. " And what kind of myths are there?"

"Well," she explained," one popular myth is that African-American men are the most well-endowed of all men, when in fact it is the Native American Indian who is most likely to possess that trait. Another popular myth is that Frenchmen are the best lovers, when actually it is men of Jewish descent who are the best. I have also discovered that the lover with absolutely the best stamina is the Southern Redneck."

Suddenly the woman became a little uncomfortable and blushed. "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't really be discussing all of this with you. I don't even know your name..."

"Tonto," the man said, "Tonto Goldstein, but my friends call me Bubba."