Coonridge Digest: Make your call, Freida…

Greetin’s from the Ridge.

"Herb, have you ever thought about smokin’ marijuana?" "Why do you do this to me, Freida? I do my bit to struggle through each and every day, puttin’ up with your weird ideas and crazy notions. I don’t harm nobody unless they need it, and I dry the dishes for you after every meal. Then you come flyin’ out of leftfield with a question that makes me wonder if I’ve married an alien life force from Mars." "That’s sweet of you, Herb. So have you ever thought about smokin’ marijuana?"

"I forgot the garbage, right? I let it lay on the back porch after the truck came by? Freida, I can remember that the trash goes out on Thursday, I just forget sometimes that it’s Thursday." "You’re losin’ it, Herb." "I am not losin’ it, my wife is drivin’ me to distraction with silly questions."

"I just feel so bad for Prince Charles." "When did you start carin’ about pipe tobacco." "That’s Albert, Herb. Charles is the Queen’s boy and the trouble he has with his sons. Did you see that young Harry smoked marijuana and regularly gets potted at the local pub? Shoot, if I’d of known things were in that big of a mess I’d of stopped in to console Liz when we visited last week."

"They’re spoiled little rich boys, Freida. What they need is a swift kick and a real job. Them poor kids are doomed to a life to breakin’ Champaign bottles over the noses of ships and cuttin’ ribbons on new elementary schools."

"So…you ever thought about smokin’ marijuana?" "You should be in the Olympics, Freida. Your jumps of logic are worth at least a Bronze."

"I’ve got this notion, Herb. Every generation has its particular sins and those sins are no worse than those of their parents. Just different."

"Freida, I’ve never been drunk, never chased a woman other than that religious doorknocker last summer and if I’d of had a broom to whack her with I’d of even let that one go. I’m a lean, clean, semi-dull old man.

Whatever it is, I ain’t smoked it, drank it or chased it." "You ever tip over an outhouse?"

"What?"

"You once told me that when you were a boy you tipped over outhouses on Halloween."

"I have never smoked a toilet in my life." "It’s the same thing, Herb. It was a sin then and now it’s a prank." "That’s because you needed the outhouse when I was a boy, Freida. You can’t even find one nowadays."

"Short-sheeted a bed? Turpentined a cat? Dipped a girl’s pigtails in the inkwell?"

"There’s a long road between puttin’ turpentine on a cat’s tail and smokin’ grass, Freida."

"I can see you’ve never been a cat."

"No, but I’m dog-tired and goin’ to bed. Are you sayin’ that the young Prince was right in smokin’ his illegal weeds?" "I’m just wonderin’ if ain’t just the natural progression of civilization."

"Drug use is natural progression? Freida what have you been smokin’?" "I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, Herb. I just think that every generation’s got it’s own demons and we might be wrong in thinkin’ one is that much worse than the other. I think I’ll give Liz a call." "You’re gonna call the Queen of England? Freida, are you out of… what am I sayin’…of course you are. At least call collect. She can afford it. I’m goin’ to bed. But I just wish you’d learn to smile at a few things in life without takin’ the entire world’s problems on your stooped shoulders. Have a sense of humor. The rich will always manage to wriggle out of their misery.

"You go on to bed. She oughta be gettin’ up about now and I’ll just chat a minute."

"Freida! Freida, come in here! Somebody’s short-sheeted my bed!" "Where’s your sense of humor, Herb? You know, I wish you’d learn to just smile at a few things without…"

"Make your call, Freida."

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