Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Arabs in Cowboy Boots

Doing a little light reading in my Qu’ran last night. That’s right, I read the Qu’ran on occasion. I read the Bible when I’m happy, and I pick up the Qu’ran when I’m mad at somebody. I’ve made a study of Arab behavior over the years, and being a Texan I’ve noticed several things that are perculiar to that race. First off they’re all still in tribes. Kinda like the Indians, but the Indians don’t cling to it near as bad as the Arabs do. Oh, Indians are Indians, but they’re too busy running casinos now to worry much about what feather to wear. Well, Arabs never got past that. Where any self respecting Indian wouldn’t dream of seriously wearing a feather in their hair, Arabs will put that silly head dress on no matter how rich they are, or WHERE they are in the world. They truss up their women, too. When I take Frenchi out anywhere I want her to wear those jeans, and a blouse that lets everybody know who she is. It’s an ego thing. I’m sixty-three and she, well, she’s NOT! She’s of age, don’t go there!

Something has always intrigued me about Arabs. Now, they’ve been tooling around the desert for eons, on camels, all bundled up in their Sunday sheets, and they never came upon cowboy boots. I think they wear sandals or something like that. On what planet does that make sense. Trudging across the sand with sandals. But, I guess if you’re going to ride a camel that fits right in. They supposedly don’t drink either. Oxymoron. All that sand and heat, you’re living in a tent, eating goat, and can’t have a beer! Kinda like the Mormons in that respect. Run off to a salty lake, WAY up in the Rockies, cold as a well digger’s butt in Wyoming, and tell people they can’t drink coffee. But they DO have Long Johns, so I guess it balances out there. 

I like the four wives thing, though. Can you imagine how much money I would have saved over the years if I’d been allowed to just add a wife without having to dispose of her predecessor? Wear one out, just add another. I had an idea once about marriage licenses. Seems to me that every license I’ve ever had either expired, or had to be renewed, after a refresher course. Marriage licenses are the exception. I wish driver’s licenses were like that. You pass the test and bada bing, bada boom, you drive forEVER! Nope! Don’t work like that. The way I see it consistency is everything. You pick up this girl at a bar and trot down to the all night wedding chapel and get hooked up. Helps if you’re in Vegas when you pull this kind of stuff. Anyway, you wake up the next day and there she is. Now, depending on how drunk you were the night before she will be at various stages of beauty, but just for the sake of argument let’s just say she’s a knock out, ok? You fly back to Texas and for about the first year everything’s cool. She cooks, cleans, gets naked at the appropriate times, but then some little issues arise. You notice she has a problem with her drug of choice, and take your pick, there are many. She also loves mankind, ALL of mankind. Now being in your sunset years you try to work with this, but when your computer, rings, phone, and various other items find their way to the pawn shop things begin to wear a bit thin. After the obligatory  trip to the “clinic” you seriously start rehashing that little trip to Vegas. 

Well, long about this time two years have passed and it comes time for renewal! Yep, you heard that right, RENEWAL. Both partners have to take a mandatory continuing marriage class and pay the fee to renew the marriage license. Soooooo, you tell Honey Boo Boo that you just can’t see renewing her at this time, and you’ll be happy to put her on the first plane BACK to Vegas. That’s Southwest boys, and girls, NOT American Air Lines, ok? No muss, no fuss, just garbage in, garbage out. Of course you give her five or ten dollars to get her through the break up. I mean be civilized. “Outrageous,” you say. Heck, gay people have been doing that for years. For the life of me I can’t understand WHY they want marriage anyway. They can do anything they want with no child support, no alimony, and no property rights if they just play is smart. 


I think the perfect Arab would be in cowboy boots, with a Mercedes, and four wives, all on renewable marriage licenses who are dressed in bikinis, and rub his feet EVERY night, but then, I’m just a simple ol’ boy from Austin, what do I know. 

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