A Joke

Thanksgiving proceedes pleasantly enough.  Only one person managed to grab a hot casserole lid with her bare hands.  I won’t mention any names, but she’s having a little trouble typing this right now.

We trimmed up a bunch of stuff in the yard and now we’re burning the world’s thickest log and arguing about whether it wll burn by itself or if we need to put another log on with it.

So, here’s the joke I heard the recalcitrant brother telling the Butcher as I fell to sleep last night.

A polar bear and a lizard are smoking a joint.  Smoke, smoke, smoking, just the absolute best bud either of them had ever tasted.  And finally the lizard is like, “Whew that’s good, but I have cotton mouth like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well,” said the polar bear, “you should go down to the river and taste that water.  It’s pretty amazing.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

So the lizard goes down to the river, is drinking some water, when an alligator comes up and is all, “Hey, lizard, what are you up to?”

“Oh me and this polar bear are smoking the best pot you ever had.”

“What?  A polar bear?  Here?  Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, seriously, just go right up the trail.  You know where the magnolia tree is?  He’s right there.”

So, the alligator is all like, damn, I’ve just got to see this, and he heads up the trail to see this polar bear.

And there, under the magnolia, is indeed a polar bear smoking pot.  The alligator stares at the polar bear.  The polar bear stares at the alligator.

And finally, after a moment, the polar bear says to the alligator, “Damn, how much water did you drink anyway?!”

Happy Thanksgiving!

Well, the turkey is in the oven.  Every thing else is ready to go in the oven in about an our.  My brothers are over at the Butcher’s friends, watching the first half of the game on hi-def.  My nephew is playing Grand Theft Auto.  My mom is going through our kitchen looking for god knows what.  Dad is eating Doritos and watching a special about Bozo and the dog is sleeping like a rock.

And now my dad is arguing with himself about which guy in Bozo’s band was my uncle’s uncle.

I’m just about to lay on him the knowledge that mammoths ate osage oranges.

Good times.