They said it …
“Is that the Beatles, Dad?” — my 6-year-old daughter as we watched a group of guitar-wielding rock musicians on an old TV clip.
We were actually watching a clip of Elvis, who no longer performs live. (Well, there was that appearance on the Smothers Brothers and the rooftop performance in Las Vegas, but that was pretty much it.)
“You’re not a fat old man, Dad. — my 6-year-old daughter again. Long story.
“Why do people make fun of you, Dad?” — my 9-year-old son, wanting to know why someone would send me a copy of one of my columns with a red-inked notation: “You really are a moron. Your articles make no sense at all.”
“If I’m gonna swing out there like a big boy and state my opinions, I gotta be able to take it in return.” — me. Or if I didn’t actually say it, I certainly thought it.
“Did I spell ‘moron’ right?” — someone named Johnson after hearing the “moron” story.”
“I wouldn’t have used red ink, but it was all I had.” — someone else named Johnson, also after hearing the “moron” story.
“Want me to buy you the DVD on the history of the New York Jets?” — my 9-year-old son, who knows the Jets and “that famous quarterback” are my faves.
“I have determined I will be learning Americanisms for the rest of my life …” — another person named Johnson who became a U.S citizen after immigrating from another country.
He was responding to my reference in an e-mail to someone having a cow and my use of the phrase “doggone it.”
“My wife is really getting into the Village Idiot.” — Yet another person named Johnson, referring to my alter ego whose column runs on Thursday.
“Does she like him better than me?” — me.
“Yes.” — not actually uttered, but implied by Johnson’s “knowing look,” you might call it.
Now I’ve got two rivals out there. It’s bad enough I have to hear “that Harry Marlin is so funny” without hearing “that Village Idiot is so funny …”
“ … the people told the paper.” — An Associated Press article’s reference to unnamed multiple sources in an article about a sex scandal in Michigan.
“That’s just one step away from ‘I heard it on the street … I overheard it at Brookshire’s over in the produce aisle.” — co-worker, Johnson, commenting on the people telling the paper.
Guess that’s not any worse than “the Johnsons told the cat juggler.”
Steve Nash writes his column for the Brownwood Bulletin on Thursdays. He may be reached by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.