Suburban Camping

St. Mark’s church hosted its 60th annual May Fair on Saturday. The ferris wheel made it’s rounds, the roller coaster followed suit, brick-a-brack and brisket were bought and sold, and fun was had by all until the crankies set in…

Women are really, really, not allowed at the weekly Senior Men’s Club meetings, but I invited myself anyway as a guest of my father. I figured if I put on some slacks and a nice sweater I could maybe sort of blend in. I got the uniform right anyway, but my long blond hair doesn’t quite match the cropped gray monochrome of the assembled membership.

Attorney General Richard Blumenthal is the scheduled speaker. “They always start the meeting with business, but Blumenthal said he wanted to start promptly at 10,” Dad says, sounding a bit miffed about this break from the routine. Lucky for him and all other creatures of habit in attendance the A.G. is - true to form - late.

Business begins with a rundown of who’s in the hospital, who’s out of the hospital, who’s got a new pacemaker (Dad just got one, but he declines to stand up to share the news). There are announcements of upcoming outings - a tour of the USS Intrepid (itself old and gray enough to be a Club member), golf - of course, bridge starts right after the meeting, so stick around. Sign up at the “Couth” table - Dad’s not sure why they call it that, but I have my guesses - the assembled are going to need some re-civilizing after what comes next.

It’s 10:30, Blumenthal has still not arrived, so this week’s appointed jester takes the podium. He offers a joke about Jesus and his clothier going into business together to cash in on the popularity of those robes the son of God has made famous. Jesus and the clothier, named Finkelstein, go back and forth about whether their shop should be named “Jesus and Finkelstein” or “Finkelstein and Jesus”. At last they compromise - and here’s the punch line - “Lord & Taylor”.

Harrumph. Harrumph.

Still no Blumenthal.

“A woman goes to the doctor complaining that when her husband climaxes, he screams. ‘That’s normal,’ the doctor says, ‘So what’s the problem?’ ‘He wakes me up.”

credit: www.cartoonstock.com

Guffaw!!!

The vamping continues.

“A lumberjack loses his grip on his chainsaw and loses his ‘member’. The doctor tell him he can replace it with an above average one, but that’ll cost $16K, and insurance won’t cover it. An average one will cost $10K, insurance won’t cover that either. A below average but still functioning member will cost $6K. The lumberjack says he has to talk to his wife about it. ‘What did she say?,’ the doctor asks. ‘She’d rather redo the kitchen.”

Guffaw!!! Guffaw!!!!

11:00. No Blumenthal. The peanut gallery gets into the act.

“A prostitute goes to the police to report that she’s been raped. ‘How do you know?,’ asks the officer. ‘The check bounced.”

Harrumph.

11:15. Blumenthal arrives, but his remarks are off the record. All I can tell you is that, yes, one of the harrumphing members in the front row falls asleep.