(From time to time we like to have guest posters come around to pointlessbanter.net and share their points of view. My Uncle makes his return to the site to share his view on the tragic news this week of my mother joining Facebook.)
Now the time has come where our beloved Bobby has entered into that zone of life that he never, ever imagined, where all his sacred thoughts, perverted and twisted acts and downright debauchery of all things sacred to man have come to a screeching halt. As my wife unintentionally entered the Bob’s mother, my sister and the woman whose very loins dropped that 14 lb head, gut of a Greek god (fully bloated), and the owner of the “Herman” onto the world of Facebook, she has joined the 21st century, totally and forever keeping the mother’s hand on the author’s doings, writings and all things bullshit. The reasons’ this is sweet are as follows:
1. You had it coming…all those years, all those years when we heard how you were doing so great, your grades were exceptional (Bobby graduated from the longest named college in the state of California, not to mention that before they turned into his alma mater, it was a nut house, and they accredited the inmates, so that American Histories of Television professor you had was actually a hobo who watched every channel piped into his ward, 24/7 and remembers’ when Brutus and Bluto were the same person)…when we sat at all those seasonal gatherings and had to wait for your over-nourished and under educated body to arise at 3 pm so we could have the traditional family dinner, while you rambled on and on about your current mountings of the opposite sex (I won’t mention the duck and……………wait, I just did)….while “Mom” sat by with her Betty Crocker smile and dinner, all this for her little boy.
2.Your sister is laughing all the way to Tijuana…I can see it now, as she drives with her current tattooed, coked-out, one toothed, three eyed “client” to the land of pharmaceutical heaven, and after she pays the guy for the lip balm to clear up that nasty “cold sore”, she gazes into her laptop (which isn’t busy at the moment….her lap that is), and to her astonishment, here is her published and highly touted brother, reading how as you explain to your mother about the girl, the midget (sorry….vertically challenged individual) and the subway…you may be Mom’s favorite now, but the time is now for you to run and hide.
3. Now it’s my turn…. ha that’s all I’ve got and now you realize that all those times’ when you cried and hollered and screamed “I’m telling my mother” will now forever live on in your scary little world plus the fact she now knows’ what you do every day, and you are not working at that home in Boston where all those 90+ year old people who had coronaries’ after the Red Sox won their rings’.