Thursday, March 17, 2005

Grampa's Golden Pond           with Grampa Jenkins Good evening, ladies and gentleman. And happy Saint Paddy's Day. May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live. That's my Irish wish for you, and today we're all a little Irish, in particular my granddaughter Katy. That's an Irish namefor you isn't it, Katy, like the great Kate Hepburn, who I once broke bagels with, when she came to see me in 'The Fantasticks'. What a time that was! All she wanted to do was talk about me, even though she had a career of her own that wasn't too shabby. I guess I've got Katys on my mind, all kinds of Katys. Hepburn, Blanchard, Couric... I don't really know if my Katy has any Irish in her or not - her mother ran away from home when she was just sixteen and married (so she said!) some scallywag ne'er-do-well who didn't have two sticks to rub together. Well that whore ran back home after a few years, and I would of never forgiven her except for the darling five year old she brought back with her. I bet you can guess who that was! Katy used to worship her grampa, but over the years we've grown distant. Maybe she blames me for the misfortune that befell her grandma on that tragic summer day, when I accidentally mowed the poor woman down. She walked right in front of my new riding mower, for gosh sakes, and I couldn't get the gears to respond in time! The infernal machine seemed to have a mind of it's own. I never claimed that Gretchen was a nematode, and if I did it was because I was in shock. But that's all in the past, now. She's a successful woman, My Katy, with a big syndicated advice column that even runs in the New York Daily News. Recently she asked me to help her out with it, and it was a big smashing success. I suspect what she's looking for is to make a partnership deal with me. I don't know about that, though, not unless she's willing to give me top billing. Besides, I still have the theater in my blood, and that's a bug that's hard to lose. Tomorrow we're going to meet for lunch - a Mexican place I haven't heard of called Tico's. As long as they have Camarón al Mojo and cold Negra Modelo, they're okay in my book. The important thing, of course, is seeing my Katy once again. I've got a special jar of teeth that I know she's really missed. I have a feeling it's going to be a wonderful day. 7:48:25 PM    comment []

2:04:29 PM    comment []

Prime Minister Ahren Finally Gets it Right Irish Prime Minister Bertie Ahern was allowed into the White House today after finally bringing President Bush an acceptable shrubbery. Bush said that he was quite delighted with the bush, declaring it a "good and noble shrubbery, one worthy of the rose garden itself". Ahem had been trying to get into the White House for a number of weeks, and was pleased to gain entry on Saint Patrick's day, which is a high holy day for the Irish, commemorating the deeds of Patrick McGeehin, who is said to have driven all bagpipes out of the land, and back to Scotland where they rightly belonged. On his first attempt, the prime minister had brought a large Azalea, which the presidential doorkeeper had sneered at, refusing to even call Bush down 'to take a look'. Afterwards, Ahem drove to Home Depot where he found a lovely Royal Purple Hydrangea in full bloom. Bush did come downstairs to greet him, but declared the plant 'too flowery', and expressed his doubts that the hydrangea even qualified as a shrubbery. The third time proved a charm, with Ahem finding just the thing at 'Roger the Shrubber's' - a plain green bush that looked nice, but was not too expensive. Ahem was greeted warmly, and invited into the presidential quarters, where he was given a traditional glass of rich, chocolaty Ovaltine. He expressed a desire to discuss Sinn Fein, but the president told him that this would be impossible unless he obtained another shrubbery and cut down the mightiest tree in the forest with a herring. 12:44:25 PM    comment []