Cordele Dispatch, Cordele, GA

Opinion

October 31, 2012

Mr. Man is crazy

Cordele — Yesterday morning, herding the three furry moppets down the stairs, I whispered to L’il Man, my dark brown Pomeranian, “Daddy is crazy.”

L’il Man looked me straight in the eye and wagged his tail.  And…I swear…I think he nodded.

Mr. Man may be old, but he is not deaf, and he popped up out of his man cave like a Jack-in-the-Box, flailed his fist through the air, and hollered, “I’ll show you who is crazy!”

Waiting until the furry moppets and I reached the safety of the bottom step, I whispered again, “See…I told you that Daddy is crazy.”

He is kind of crazy…a Clint Eastwood kind of crazy.  In fact, he reminds me of Mr. Eastwood…from the tuft of white fuzz on top of his head, all the way down to his smart-alecky mouth.

Like Clint, Mr. Man is not afraid to say what he thinks.  Clint said it first, but Mr. Man could have said it.  “Make my day.”

Clint came up with the empty chair skit in front of a national audience…but Mr. Man loved it.  In fact, Mr. Man could have been an entertainer, just like Clint, since he never runs out of one-liners.

The other day, as I tried to talk to someone on the phone, he kept pointing to his watch and interrupting.  I think it must have been dinnertime.  Anyway, he was so loud and obnoxious that I finally had to hang up the phone.

“You have no concept of time until I’m on the phone with a friend. Then suddenly, you become a world-class clock-watcher.”

Mr. Man is not one to let me have the last word.  I should know…I have tried a million times, and failed.

“You have no concept of time unless I’m looking for something in Best Buy,” he snarled.  “Now fix my supper.”

Later, he was holed up in his man cave on the phone with Apple, complaining about one of his four iPhones.  That’s right…he has four.  Mr. Man does not do anything halfway.  I guess you could say that he collects iPhones.

“You have four iPhones?” I asked, incredulously.  “Why does any one person need four?”

Oh my goodness.  You would have thought that I had challenged his manhood.

“Don’t worry about how many iPhones I have.  Besides, why do you have three dogs?  At least my iPhones don’t poop on the floor.”

I don’t have to tell you that “poop” was not the word he used, but be that as it may, he did make a good point.  And on top of that, his iPhones don’t run up a big vet bill.

And, like Clint, Mr. Man is a control freak.  For instance, he is not what you would call a back-seat driver as much as an assistant driver.

 He does not simply give driving directions, he actually drives when I am behind the wheel…changing gears for me, operating the windshield wipers, and even honking the horn when other drivers annoy him.

 Once, in the middle of downtown Atlanta, he shouted, “Right turn Clyde,” and grabbed the steering wheel to make a right turn.

In addition to all of this, you may have noticed that Mr. Man is constantly trying to correct me, teach me.

 When I asked why, he replied, “Someone has to do it.  I might not get into heaven for it, but I should at least get an honorable mention.”



 

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