Trailer Park Baby New Year.

My father sent me these photos a couple of weeks ago. I chuckled, shook my head and then vowed I'd never show them to a soul - for fear that such strange nuances of my ancestral lineage may one day exclude me from public office. Now that I think about it though, I've pretty much ensured as much all by my lonesome. Still, I figured I'd keep the snaps to myself for fear of embarassing the old man in public. You can see why for yourselves...



The photos were entitled "babynewyear.jpg" so I can only assume the stories I've heard about my Dad being the Trailer Park's resident Foster Brooks are true. Gordo is basically the wind-up entertainment for this portable Floridian community. Kudos to him for enjoying his retirement, however disturbing it may be to the rest of his kin. He makes a superb baby new year, and it looks as though there was at least one costume change involved as well.

But then I got word that he had actually been checking the blog on a regular basis, and was miffed that he had yet to be featured! The old man reads my site? Jesus, that changes everything. Actually, we're talking about Gord here. I don't need to change a thing. And since we're on the topic, I'll share my favorite exchange with him from last summer:

"Hey Dad - I didn't know you liked Mike's Hard Lemonade."
"Well, actually I enjoy a nice bottle of it every night while I watch the sunset."
"You know what it is, right?"
"What?"
"Malt liquor for chicks."
"Fuck off."