A random look at the life and times of Jim Rising recovering radio addict and newspaper columnist.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

AEIOU and Sometimes Y.

I live down the road from the Lands at Hillside Farms Dairy store. It’s a squeaky clean Disney sort of place. They don’t sell cigarettes or even lottery tickets. With flowers everywhere and four big draft horseys that are as gentle as kittens and a pair of lovable donkeys it’s just the most perfect place to spend a little time on a sunny afternoon. Don’t forget about the ice cream. By the way in my opinion Ice cream is sort of like sex. It’s all good. Some is better than others but it all of it is better than none. Except for sugar-free fat-free which is from the devil and is an abomination that should be eradicated. But I have had your Ben and Jerry’s (I grew up in Vermont) and your Häagen-Dazs. I still think a scoop of Hillside Farms puts them all to shame. So the other bright beautiful day the long suffering wife and I enjoyed some. Ice cream that is. As I said before the dairy store is fresh, clean and nice. A place where you can bring the kids and grandkids without any fear. Until last Saturday that is.
Now I am not easily offended. I have spent time in places where, let us say, morals and dress codes are, well, loose. The infield at a Pocono 500 comes to mind. The French Quarter in New Orleans would be another. But there is a time and place for everything. I think that’s in the bible. And the T-shirt the large woman was wearing was not from any biblical text.
Now I am sure she found it amusing. I am certain when she got up that morning and put it on and checked herself out in the mirror that she thought “Lookin’ gooood, sweetheart!” Possibly she does not own a mirror, an idea that often occurs to me when I observe how other humans dress for the day.
I am not sure where the time and place to wear this t-shirt would be. I can’t see her wearing it to church or at a wedding. That it seemed wildly inappropriate in the context of the dairy store is true.
I wanted to ask her about it but I demurred for two reasons. First off the wife thought it unwise. And secondly this woman was bigger than me and could have hurt me.
The T-shirt which was black with white letters was laid out in type set to look like the wheel of fortune board. It said “G_ F_CK Y__RSELF. Want to buy a vowel?”
I guess in the final analysis no one was killed or hurt. The ice cream and milk didn’t curdle. By the way isn’t “Y” a vowel? Just asking.

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