Fireflies, Fireworks and Sparklers


Our annual Fourth of July football game was under way.  Little kids, senior citizens, even girls were allowed to play. I was going only half-speed as I had already eaten two hotdogs and two hamburgers. Even with this massive load in my stomach I caught a touchdown thrown by my uncle Frank. He could play with a cigarette in his mouth–that takes talent. When he gave the football to his son, little Frankie ran the wrong way and kept going until he was tackled in my neighbor’s yard. The turnout was big this year–nearly a hundred cousins and friends. All together in our front yard. I was proud. We were drinking, sweating and swatting away gnats. At dark the fireflies came out, then fireworks and sparklers.

Happy Fourth of July


In Search of Happiness


I am past forty, out of shape, and yet I am certain that there is a woman
out there who will make the fireworks go off.
I like blondes, brunettes, red heads, and gray haired women. No bald women please.
I like small butts, medium butts, and large butts. No extra large butts please.
As far as breasts go they can be any size or shape, and more than two is fine.

I’m just not choosy any more. I used to like women who were cute and bubbly.
Now I don’t care.
Intelligent, good. Not so smart, even better. I guess I am getting desperate.

What do I have to offer them?
I am poor, over the hill, and I can be a real jerk.
If I can help them to be happy, though, I’ll find a way.