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Hoppy Days are Here Again

It was time, I thought, to take control of my life, after a medical fiend sawed off my hip bone and inserted a death-defying, vacation-providing metal and plastic substitute.  So after a trip to the lawn tractor repair shop,  I took control of my life and went to Granite City, our nearest brew pub and restaurant.  There is nothing quite like an Indian Pale Ale and some buffalo shrimp to pull a shredded life together and give it eternal hope!

While I was restoring my soul, I listened to the two guys to my left, at the bar.  They ate soup, and salad, and sandwiches, and then decided to have another order of soup, and salad, and sandwiches, all the while entertaining the very professional and attractive bartender.  (I don't know how professional and attractive bartenders  endure it, and smile!)

One of the guys owned a business of some sort, and he was irate about his new tax bill.  His business was on the edge, he said, and his taxes were going up 5%.  G-- D---ed government, and all that!  There was no recognition that the reason his local tax bill was going up was because federal and state grants to local governments were going down because they were broke, too.  He thought that cutting taxes some more ought to do the trick.

About the time their second order came, he told his friend about having been roped into a committee to work with their "teen ministry".  The G-- D---ed women on the committee never stopped talking!  After a couple of meetings, he discovered that a couple of the G-- D---ed women actually were doing something, but he couldn't even tell them so because of Political Correctness; you know, just patting them and telling them how he felt.

The other guy finally had his chance, and he told how he had gone to his first meeting at the gun club in his neighborhood, and how everybody had his head up his anatomy somewhere--that is not precisely how he phrased it, but political correctness deters me from using a direct quote--so he finally found out who was in charge, and brought his own skid loader and backhoe out to the range and drained the swamp to get rid of the crocodiles, or whatever the problem was.  Him!  The newest member!  He was tired, after just one meeting, of the women members who just talked and talked.

Just two take-charge guys!  Two thinkers, who weren't even allowed to say what they really thought, because of those G-- D---ed political correctness laws.

I think it was the medicinal properties of the India Pale ale, but after a while my hip did not hurt so much.  Almost a relief!   It was probably the hops.

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