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Prof. Mondo made an allusion today to an expression that made its way into the family lexicon of Robbo’s misspent yoot many moons ago.  I laughed out loud at its unexpected reappearance, especially as it now seems so apropos to some of my own offspring.  Thus, I offer the original source to all you friends of the decanter:


Along the same lines, we have another more recent Noo Yawker cartoon framed in the downstairs loo, which, because of copyright issues, I don’t believe I can repost here.  At any rate, it features a modern, upscale-liberal-looking mother confronting her recalcitrant little daughter, who stands defiantly in the doorway of an obviously posh bedroom.  The mother is saying, “Young lady, don’t get gutsy with me!”

I sometimes use that one for medicinal attitude-adjustment purposes.

As I passed through the kitchen this morning on the way to the garage, I came across the youngest gel.  She was reaching for a glass from one of the cupboards with one hand while hanging off the handle of the cupboard door with the other.  This was not the first time I’ve caught her doing this.

“Look,” I said with some heat, “If you keep hanging on handles like this, you’re going to pull the entire cupboard door right off its hinges.  And if you do that, then I’m going to sell you to pay for the repairs.” 

As I passed from the mud room into the garage, I overheard Mrs. Robbo say, “Don’t worry, sweetie, he isn’t really going to sell you….”

See if I don’t.

Putting aside all the “Forgive me, iPhone, for I have sinned” jokes made by people who apparently don’t understand what they’re talking about, I actually find myself thinking that this new confession “App” might not be such a bad idea, at least for those people who seem unable to function without some kind of electronic gadget in their little mitts. 

Forgive me if my tentative endorsement of a new technology has caused you to ruin your monitor with coffee.  And I assure my fellow members of the Luddite Club that there is no need to form a hollow square and ceremoniously strip me of my wooden shoes.  It’s just that from what I understand, the thing’s designed to help one make a more organized and thorough examination of one’s conscience, thus making for a better trip to the box (which it most certainly does not replace).  In this, it’s no different than the paper guide that I use.  And if, as I say, it spreads such benefit farther into the ranks of the techno-crowd, well, how bad can it really be?

(By the way, have I said before just how much I detest that word “App”?  It’s even worse than “carbs”.)


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February 2011