Coonridge Digest: Zip it up, Herb

 Greetin’s from the Ridge.

I think Osama may have won. I don’t know about the rest of America but Herb’s been defeated.

My husband is not the John Wayne of courage and conviction. There are other ways to describe him but most of you are too young to remember Pinky Lee. Maybe Barney Fife would suffice.

This week we’re takin’ off on a jet plane and Herb has assumed that he’s been convicted, sentenced and is now sittin’ on the Coonridge section of Death Row.

I stumbled across one of those fly-now-for-cheap travel deals that couldn’t be passed up. The upshoot of the thing is that Herb and me are takin’ off for London as you read this. At least there’s one of us goin’. Herb has convinced himself that he’ll be in jail.

"Herb, I’ve got to pack those pants. What are you doin’ with ‘em?" "Sewin’ on buttons."

"Your pants ain’t got buttons, Herb." "That’s why I’m sewin’ ‘em on. Now hand me those new suspenders."

Aside from the fact that Herb can’t thread a needle, much less sew anything, his hand was shakin’ so bad that he had bloody fingers by the time I wrestled the needle from his spindly little paws. "Herb, why are you sewin’ buttons on your pants?"

"The zipper’ll set off the alarm. I’ve taken the zippers out of all my pants and I’m sewin’ on suspender buttons, too. The metal clips on my old suspenders’ll get me put away."

"Herb, this won’t come as any surprise to anyone who knows you at all, but you’re crazy. If they ain’t put you away by now, then. . . " "This is ridiculous, Freida. We’ve got no business flyin’ at times like this!"

"Times like what?"

"Terrorists in the skies and strip searches in the airports! This is the single most hair-brained thing you ever throwed at me." "Herb, do you have any idea what kind of condition this country would be in if everybody thought like you?"

"They’d all be where they belong…alive and on the ground." "And what in heaven’s name makes you think you’re gonna be strip searched?"

"Last week they took a Congressman aside and made him strip down to his drawers."

"Herb, the difference between you and a Congressman is that he’s got plenty to hide and you’ve got a good deal that oughta stay covered up." "Freida, when they start strippin’ Congress then Herb Crump’s in big trouble. They don’t know me from Adam." "Why would they need to search Adam?"

"Hand me the needle, Freida."

"So what if we get delayed a little, Herb? Look, our timing is perfect. If even a part of the world is as paranoid as you then London will be half deserted, we’ll be the first in line for every attraction, we might be able to stretch out on the plane and we’ve even got a shot and them havin’ more than creamed chicken by the time they get to our seats in coach class. Herb, the world’s gonna be ours." "Would you sew on the buttons?"

"Would you think a thought? You think you’re gonna be the only person in the St. Louis airport with a zipper in his pants? And so what if your zipper sets off the beeper? Lord, they can see it’s a zipper, Herb. It ain’t like it’s loaded."

"And how am I gonna shave?"

"You were gonna shave with your zipper?" "Razors, Freida. They’re gonna find my razors." "Yea, and they’ll pick ‘em up, look at ‘em and say, ‘I think this is a razor, Sergeant. Think it could do any damage?’ And the sergeant will say, ‘By looking at Mr. Crump I’m surprised he hasn’t cut his own throat already. Let it go.’"

"You promise to come visit me, Freida?" "Where?"

"In prison."

"Herb, you are a walkin’ argument for the insanity plea. No jury would convict."

I just hope to God that the rest of the nation’s got more resolve that his old idiot I’m married to. Instead of dreamin’ of tea with the Queen I’m spendin’ the week replacin’ zippers.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.