STOP THE RUNAWAY LOL

It is high time that we stopped thinking about only ourselves and we consider the runaway inflation and enormous debt that we are creating by or selfishness. Of course I speak of the over-saturation in the world by the “LOL.” Because of this the value of he “LOL” it’s now at an all time low.


People have been attempting new ways to divest themselves of surplus “LOLs.” It was reported. Just last week, that during a Marx Brother’s film festival, when Chico asked, “Way a Duck,”. A loud “LOL” replaced the traditional laughter. NBC is considering a return to the old “laugh track,’ however, with a slight variation, the “LOL track.”


Many of you are now thinking , “When will he stop trying to take away our constitutional right to “LOL?” Even the conservative icon, the late Justice Antonin Scalia recognized that there may be circumstances where regulating the “LOL,” s not only warranted, but necessary In the concurring opinion in “The United States of America v. Jerry Lewis,” he is often quoted for those words that he coined, “That is not funny.”


No, I don’t wish to take away your right to “LOL.” I am only proposing a moratorium on the “self LOL.” Children emulate their parents. Do you want your child to self ‘LOL’”. I know that you don’t.

Furthermore medical science has proven that “self ‘LOLing’”. Will lead to a propensity to prematurely “LOL.”

So I beg you, let’s consider our children and use your “LOLs” carefully and judiciously

In the Big Apple City
With ladies so pretty
Only a few confuse me with a sage.
I am often pedantic,
On this side of the Atlantic
And not often considered “the rage.”
Onward and upward goes my journey on Earth
I’ll ask you politely “what is it all worth?”
And what is the next step I take?
To a burnt out old Lawyer
Re-reading Tom Sawyer
Sometimes wondering who knows he’s a fake.
Now I hope that your interest is whetted
And your future not fretted
I will only drone on for a short time.
Please, don't leave in a huff;
Get comfortable, be in the buff.
Point taken, I’ll be more sublime.
I have long been audacious,
And sometimes salacious
When I am speaking to friends or foe
I prefer a good Sarcasm
To a bad orgasm;
But the later isn’t so bad you know.
You may find me confusing
And often amusing
Even when pontificating,
But don’t look for me at all,
I am just down the hall
When I begin my flatulating
So let this be our conclusion
That I have no allusion
About my words that I have here taken to pen
They give no explanation,
And no great sensation
But I may add to this now and again.

Today’s NY Times, proved beyond reasonable doubt that the President has worked directly with Putin in treasonous acts against out country. I don’t believe that anybody can read the transcript of their latest telephone conversation and conclude otherwise. Here is that Transcript





Putin: Mr. President, your aides will be meeting with my aides. It is very important that you know the names of my aides.

Trump:: Yes I agree

Putin: Now, my Prime Minister is Notenov. The US Ambassador is Goodenov and the Press Secretary is Badenov.

Trump: I know what you mean, I haven’t always been satisfied with my cabinet either. So what are their names?

Putin: I'm telling you. Prime Minister is Notenov as Prime Minister. The US Ambassador is Goodenov and the Press Secretary is Badenov--

Trump: You like these guys??

Putin: Yes.

Trump: Well, then why do you feel that the Prime Minister is Not enough?
Putin: Huh?

Trump: Let me make it easier. What is the Prime Minister’s name?

Putin: He’s Notenov.

Trump: The Prime Minister.

Putin: Notenov.

Trump: I know that the Prime Minister is Not Enough, but what is his name.

Putin: The Prime Minister in Notenov.

Trump: Well, that is your problem, I just want to know his name?

Putin: I'm telling you. The Prime Minister in Notenov.

Trump: Let me make this simpler why do you think that the Prime Minister is Not Enough?

Putin: That's the man's name.

Trump: That's Not enough’s name?

Putin: Yes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trump: Some of my aides are complaining that they are under paid When you pay off the Prime Minister every month, is the check made out for enough?

Putin: It’s Notenov.

Trump: I sometimes think that it is Not enough too?

Putin: Yes.

Trump: So it is for Not enough?

Putin: Why shouldn't it be? Sometimes we try to make it out to his wife.

Trump: Does his wife think that it is enough?

Putin: No but what wife does?

Trump: Think that it is for Notenov?

Putin: Absolutely.

Trump: Well, that is Good enough for me. But I still want to know what the Prime Minister’s Name is?

Putin: Oh, no, no. That is Badenov. Our US Ambassador is Goodenov.

Trump: I'm not asking you if the US Ambassador is good enough or bad enough.

Putin: The Prime Minister is Notenov's !

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trump: Does Russia have a Cabinet?

Putin: Oh, absolutely.

Trump: The Secretary of the Treasury?

Putin:: Hesenuov.

Trump: That is not what I asked, I asked you, would you be Good enough to tell me the name of the Secretary of the Treasury.

Putin: And I told you, He’s not Goodenov.

Trump: No you told me He’s enough, now tell me his name, not if he is Good enough or Bad enough.

Putin: The US Ambassador is Goodenov and my Press Secretary is Badenov.

Trump: I wasn’t talking about them. would you be Good enough to tell me the name of the Secretary of the Treasury?

Putin: How can I be Goodenov?

Trump: Stop! Enough!

Putin: Oh, he’s our minister of propaganda!

Trump: Wait a minute. You got a Vice President in Russia?

Putin: Wouldn't this be a fine Country without a Vice President

Trump: Tell me the Vice President’s name.

Putin: Fairenov.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trump: Now, when if I defect. Since I have the experience I could be the Speaker of the House. You die and we kick out Fairenov, because he isn’t Good enough--I become President .

Putin: Now, that's the first thing you've said right.

Trump: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!

Putin: Don't get excited. Take it easy.

Trump: I am The President, I fire Badenov because he isn’t Good enough. I indict Notenov because he isn’t Fair Enough.

Putin: Yeah, it could be.

Trump: Since I am President of Both The US and Russia I end this whole thing and say “Enough is Enough”

Putin: What is that you just said?

Trump: Enough is Enough!

Putin: Oh that is The Majority Leader.

A little more that four years ago this reporter informed you about our neighbors to the north, Canada, preparing herself for a potential deluge of undocumented immigrants, led by American Liberals, Who were crossing over the northern boarder of the United States, convinced of a Mitt Romney victory over President Barack Obama. http://www.theglobaledition.com/canada-beefing-up-border-patrol-in-event-romney-wins-presidential-election/ Shortly after publication of that article, the illegal immigration eased when it became evident that President Obama would be reelected.

The Canadian government realized that they had had a narrow escape. “I hear that they hug trees, said Saskatchewan “Canada first” spokesman Rod Boynton, “Can you imagine the obstacles that our lumberjacks would encounter due to these peculiar people?”

In 2013, the chant of “tres facile,” (very easy) echoed throughout the province of Quebec. This was the chant of a rapidly growing Canadian nationalist movement, who demanded that the Canadian Parliament pass the necessary legislation needed so a wall could be built across the 5,525 mile, United States/Canada border.

In November 2013, running solely on the immigration fear, surprise candidate, John Claude San Laurant, from the newly formed “Tres Facile,” party won an overwhelming victory to gain a seat in Parliament. St. Laurant, proposed legislation to build the wall and have America's pay for the construction and upkeep.

The funding of the wall is still not been solved. President elect Donald Trump threatened on twitter “I will kick some Canadian Ass, if they ask me to pay.”

The Canadian Constitution which was modeled upon the National Hockey League rule book, mandates that any boarded separation, must be made of “fiberglass, which will not be less that 40” high and no higher than 48” from the ice surface.” The last part forced the Canadians to flood and freeze the entire distance.

The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, immediately required all of their employees to take skating lessons. This was problematical, because they found that they could lead a horse to the border, but they couldn't make him skate. In order to resolve this problem they decided tom hire retired National Hockey League players to guard the borders. This worked until retired Philadelphia Flyer player Dave Schultz trued to fight the entire Minnesota Stars team as their bus was about to cross the border for a game with the Winnipeg Jets.

Schultz who was known as an “enforcer” when he played believed that the Minnesota team was trying to sneak some Liberals over the border. He requested that they each prove that they were indeed professional Hockey Players, by removing their teeth. When 2 players refused he checked the bus into the border.

Schultz was arrested and convicted of boarding and unsportsmanlike like patrol. He is now serving 2 minutes in a Winnipeg jail.

As we neared the end of the President’s second term

There came from a tower an odd pachyderm.
Experience he had none, by why should that matter?
Because this elephant could fill twitter with chatter.


He respected all ladies, or so it was said.
Yes three he would marry, and take many to bed.
Ladies are clearly, atop his agenda.
All they need do is remain Young and slender.

He believed all of the words that declared independence.

People are equal, and so were descendants,

"So I have a plan .
I ll deport your whole clan”


Wherever he turned, the press were not fair.
“Don’t ask me that hard question, no don’t you dare.”
“But sir all that I asked, all I wanted to know.
Did you see the weather report? Are they calling for snow?”


And what if those claims that he was that he was racist indeed.

He never saw color or creed.
So it is so unfair to continue this attack.

For he had never meet someone who was Red, Yellow or Black.

As far as his experience, “for me, it’s not needed,
and that is the truth, I am not a bit conceited.
I will fix up everything way before lunch.
So I can tend to my own work for the rest of the month.”

So tell me America, why be afraid? He is the best choice that you've ever made.
A Man whose CV says “I Cheat, steal and Plunder,”.
Could be the right guy, to get us out from down under.
.



;

The word for one of 60 years Is so terribly ironic.
Along with age, come many fears, That may cause one to become laconic.
Although the spelling of this word makes it sound so utterly salacious
With two feet planted on the ground, I am clearly not that audacious.
Is there any special wisdom to impart upon becoming a sexagenarian?
Or am I content to play the part of a grouchy old contrarian?
No I am not quiet, shy or timid if you might
Someone once said “he’s a riot, and not one to avoid a fight.”
And although that one was fooled, some others knew it was just a fallacy.
Now I have been well schooled, I've used my mouth so agilely.
Although it may be long away before I reach my last reward
“wise and strong,” I hope that they say, not call me “phony” nor a “fraud.”
I’d like to leave them with some laugh from a tale that I narrate.
Maybe then they would forget a gaffe caused when I fail to orchestrate.
Will they say that I was so inclined to speak out and never was a slouch?
And not tell a soul that every time I spoke, I lay reclined upon my couch
I wonder if the pithy statements of a man of 60 are worth more when he's done
That being said, what have I learned from birth until gravestone.
That sixty years went far too fast I think. Where has a lifetime gone?
I always thought that it would longer last, and I'd I have more time to carry on.
Now as I approach the fourth quarter of my time,
I am not beyond reproach, although not for any crime.
If we conclude inning six I guess I know the score
I am now out of tricks, and the game is tied at four.
There's lots of time to win this one, I’ve three more times at the plate
So I will still have some fun, before it gets too late
I've lived my live that some would say “was very kind and caring”
But I alone know what I pay for never being daring.
Now all of you that are my friends can I improve my situation?
Or will I be, when my time ends, just full of sadness and frustration?
So let’s finish with a question mark, and ask “how can I improve my plight.”
Frankly I am in the dark, but I will try to do what is right.

My class assigment this week, was to write a story about a patient going to see a therapist that he didnt reale was crazy.  I made it into Marriage counselling and if you choose to read, you'll soon see why,

Jake and Stella Robinson have an appointment with the very famous therapist Dr. John Houston.

Stella Robinson: “Good Morning Doctor, I am Stella Robinson, my husband Jake will be here shortly, he is looking for parking.”

Dr. Houston: “Stella, hey Stella!!”

As they are waiting, Stella examines the unusual toys on the Doctors desk.

Dr. Houston: “Plastics”

                               Jake enters.

Jake Robinson: “I’m sorry that I am late, but parking was horrendous. I finally found a spot on the street.”

Dr. Houston: “Is it safe?”

Jake: “I’m not sure.  How safe is Mott  Street?”

Dr. Houston: “Forget it, Jake, it’s Chinatown.”

The buzzer rings and Mrs. Watson, the Doctor’s assistant, asks if he has heard from the Robinsons.

Dr. Houston responds: “They’re Here.”

Stella: “Jake, you parked in Chinatown.  We’ll never get home.”

Dr. Houston: “There is no place like home.”

Stella: “Doctor, we have seen four or five therapists. None could help, we are hoping that you could.”

Dr. Houston: “Why didn’t you come to me first?”

Jake: “Surely, that can’t matter. You can’t be serious?”

Dr. Houston: “I am serious…and don’t call me Shirley.”

Shirley: “Doctor, please, we were told that you were unorthodox…, and that you would be the perfect Therapist for us.”

Doctor Houston: “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

The telephone in the outer office rings, and the Doctor excuses himself.

Doctor Houston: “I’ll Be back.”

While the Doctor is out, the Robinsons speak among themselves.

Stella: “Do you notice anything unusual about the Doctor?”

Jake: “He is a bit eccentric, but I like him.”

Stella: “It’s a little more, than that.”

The Doctor reenters the room.

Doctor Houston: “Here’s Johnny.”

Jake: “Houston, we have a problem.”

Stella: “Damn it Jake, now you are doing it.”

Jake: “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!!”

Stella: “Jake, ‘Snap out of it.’  Oh, Shit!!  This must be contagious.”

Dr. Houston: “You ain’t heard nothing’ yet.”

Stella: “Doctor, maybe, if we took this one at a time.”

Dr. Houston: “Who’s on First?”

Stella: “I guess that I should go first.  I owe so much to Jake, he took me from the gutter.  Yet I feel that he doesn’t respect me.  Doctor have you ever been poor and hungry?”

Dr.  Houston: “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.”

Stella: “Good you understand where I came from, what it was like.  Jake feels like I’ve held him back.”

Jake: “You don’t understand! I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I could’ve been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.”

Stella: “Doctor, you see my issue, the way that he speaks to me.”

Doctor Houston: “You talkin’ to me?  What we have here is a failure to communicate.”

Stella: “That is precisely what I have been saying.  This man speaks the truth, and Jake, ‘you can’t handle the truth.’”

As their time nears the end, Stella has come to believe that the Doctor, although a little eccentric is brilliant, and convinces Jake to see him five times a week. A grateful Stella Robinson, kisses the Doctor on his cheek.

Doctor: “Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me. Aren’t you?”

Stella: “No Doctor, I am just so relieved.  So we’ll see you tomorrow.  ‘After all, tomorrow is another day.‘” 

After the Robinsons leave, Mrs. Watson asks the Doctor, how he managed to get them to come in five days a week.

Doctor Houston: “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

As the Doctor returns to his office, Mrs. Watson hears him say, “Today, I consider myself the  luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

This was written for a creative writing class, that I've been taking. I had to write a letter to an advice columnist as a 17 year old girl. Now the only think that I know about 17 year old girls, is 42 years ago, they wouldn't date me.

“Submitted for your approval, a 59 year old male lawyer, has a song stuck in his head, That song is Janis Ian's ‘At 17.’”

“M**************, that 59 year old, male Lawyer has just reached his life's ambition as he has become a ‘depressed teenage girl,’ in The Twilight Zone.”

“Oh Shit!, Why does 6:00 AM come so early. Man I have to pee!!’

As he walks into the bathroom, he will soon notice the change that has taken place in the Twilight Zone.

“What the ****!!, it’s going down my leg. Wait a minute, something is missing!”

He looks down, but sees nothing, which was not unusual, since his middle-aged gut often formed an eclipse over his male sexual organ. He looks in the mirror.

“What are those? Ok, I must be still asleep, but this dream is getting pretty good, those aren’t bad. I’ll just play with there for a while, until I awaken.”

Two days later, having met his Twilight Zone family and getting bored of the aforementioned activity, she comes to the conclusion that if she must live this way, she need some advice. She has determined that she is approximately 17, ergo (not realizing that her vocabulary still was that of a Curmudgeon male Attorney), she sits to write a letter to an advice columnist.

Dear Sir or Madam:
What I am seeking you advise about is rather unusual. It seems that just a few days ago, I had a metamorphosis from an Aging Male Attorney to a Lovely young lady…”

Suddenly she realizes that this may not be the way a 17 year-old girl spoke. So he must remember the language of a 17 year old girl, words come to mind, “Cool”, “Hip,” “Groovy.”

“Wait a moment. What year is this. Judging from all of those around me, it’s not 1974, but 2016. I must speak like a teenager would in 2016. And she’ll never believe that metamorphosis bullshit. What do I write her for, I know, I make this an exercise in how to adapt to my new world, and I will use that argument that I heard between my sister and father yesterday?”

So this nearly sexagenarian Attorney, with no knowledge of how a 17 year old girl speaks in 2016 having gone to the internet to find the slang used by teenagers in 2016, continues on her voyage through the Twilight Zone, by sending what she believes is a letter of a typical 17 year old.
My dad is so totally unfair!! I wanted to change the spelling of my name. So I requestioned him. I think that it would be so dope to have a new name. So, he gives me that stupid answer he always gives, “When you leave my house, you can do as you please, but as long as you live under my roof, you live by my rules.”

OMG, who talks that way? Everyone in my squad has done it. $u$$ane did it, and she is my BFF, so did R@nd1 I don’t care what he says, from now on, I am Bequi3. Then he asks that stupid question, “ If your friends jumped off of the George Washington Bridge, would you?” Of course I would, they are my mains.

Mom says, that, “this is a phase” and “I will grow out of it” and that she “did silly things’ when she was young. NOT!!! SMH. Parents can be total Derps sometimes.

OMG, I almost forgot, they won’t let me go out with K3v1n, because they found the selfie that he sent me, in his boxers. I am so totes in love with him. Maybe they will change their minds when I tell them that he is my guy, we are in a ship, and agreed to only hook-up with me, Su$$ane and R@ndi. What do you think? After all, I have to share with my BFFs.

GOD’S WILL



I graduated from Law School in 1982. I had my lofty ambitions. I would be the modern equivalent of Clarence Darrow, and argue science in the courts over fantasy.



But like many young Attorneys, who didn’t finish Number One in their class, jobs were not easy to find, so after a series of “dead end” jobs, I hung my shingle.



HARVEY SHAPIRO

COUNSELLOR AT LAW

Just like that my dream had ended. I would represent the locals, when they purchased a home, drove too quickly or needed a will. I would never become Clarence Darrow, but it was an honest living. I wasn’t rich, but my family wasn’t wanting for anything, and I was an honest lawyer, and everyone who knew me, knew that they could trust me.



Having my practice in a small town in upstate New York, I knew my clientele, and they knew me.I was well respected in the community. Although I never would object to being called Harvey, everybody called me, Mr. Shapiro. You can understand why I was so shocked the day that this very kindly little old man came into my office.



“Yes sir, may I help you?” I asked. He was silent for a few minutes. “Sir, would you have a seat, I have some coffee brewing.”



Finally, the gentleman spoke, “I’m sorry, it was just such an unusual question. Nobody ever offers to help me; they always want my help.”



“Then I am thrilled to be the first.” I said in a sincere manner, for there was something, an aura about this gentleman that demanded sincerity. “How can I be of service? Please tell me your name.”



He seemed to ignore my question, and said “I haven’t any money.”



I had always believed that an attorney should donate a considerable amount of his or her time to the needy, therefore this statement did not upset me. “Let’s talk, I’m not opposed to working pro bono, if

you qualify. Please tell me your name, and your age.” I don’t usually ask ages upfront, but there was something unusual about this man. He looked spry, and if I had to guess, I would say that he was about 85, but I wouldn’t have been shocked if he was older.



The little man spoke in a fatherly tone, but not at all condescending. “You really don’t know who I am. I’m God.”



At that moment, presented with this client, a good deal of lawyers would have thrown him out or tried to get him committed, but delusional or not, I liked this man. He came to see me about his will. He had heard so much about “God’s Will,” that he thought that it would be the prudent thing to see a Lawyer.



I didn’t believe that he was whom he claimed to be. I wondered why a man who couldn’t afford a Lawyer, needed a will, but he intrigued me, so we spoke that entire afternoon, and he told me the most incredible tale.



It claimed that he had been offered a “Golden Parachute,” in what might be considered a “hostile takeover,” of Heaven.” Ever since he had let Nixon in, Heaven was not the same. “I always felt as if I was being watched.” So a few years ago God had made plans to leave, he decided to take Heaven public.



“It may have been my worst mistake since Herbert Hoover. I am God, I could stop this at any time, but honestly, I’ve been known for getting a little overzealous, and maybe I’ve interfered too much. There was that tower and the flood.”



“Also, sometimes I didn’t think that I had that much forethought. Take this guy Onan, I now look back and say, ‘If he wanted to spill his seed on the ground, and it isn’t my carpeting, who cares.’”



“You seem like a nice man, let me give you some advice, this fellow, who wants to take over, isn’t the nicest guy. There is talk of restricting immigration into heaven. Carry clothes for all eventualities. Those that always have thought that they were the chosen, would really question my motives, by selling. But it’s nothing personal. Nobody was ever chosen I treated everyone equally.”



“Funny story, I mentioned this fellow Nixon. Did you know him?”



I responded. “I know of him; he wasn’t my favorite.”

“You’re a good judge of character. As I was saying, one day he was asking Irving Berlin to teach him how to play ‘God Bless America,’ on the Piano, when as a joke I decided to bless some other country. I believe that it was Djibouti. He was so angry, such language. I had to remind him that I could revoke his Visa at any time.”



“But, I’m tired now. I’ve worked 6 days a week for 5775 years I need a vacation. My son says that I should visit my sister in the south, but she and I never got along. He is in to this forgiveness and turning the other cheek stuff. I think that that will go the way of the Hula Hoop, a new trend. I give it another 1000 years, and nobody will remember.”



“So the world really is 5775 years old?” I was beginning to question my skepticism about this man’s true Identity.



“No, I was just checking to see if you were paying attention. Let me tell you something about the Bible, it’s a good book, but mostly fiction. Personally, I like Huckleberry Finn. Did you ever read that? I can get you an autographed copy.”



“Take the story of the Tower of Babel. Yeah, I went too far, but I had my reasons. Remember they were building this tower to reach me. If they wanted to visit they should have at least brought a strudel. Who comes empty handed to see God. So I gave them a few languages. Look how they’ve butchered those. Take English for example. What is the purpose of the world ‘literally’? Everybody says. ‘I literally did this.’ Does that mean when he doesn’t use the word, he’s lying?”

“I love language. I had my friend Roget, give you folks a Thesaurus. Kid’s today think that it is the name of a dinosaur.”



But, I am tired and I never minded helping those who helped themselves, but maybe it’s time that that I stop helping those who don’t help themselves.”



The man’s wealth of knowledge was incredible, as was his sense of humor. We had things in common.

He noticed the autographed picture of Yogi Berra on my wall, “Nice man, I don’t understand anything he says, but he’s a nice fellow. I love Baseball, but it isn’t the same as it once was. All these players thanking me, after every hit. As everybody knows, I am a Yankee fan, but I stopped interfering in the outcomes of the games in 1964. If they had told me that they were going to sell to Steinbrenner, I may have continued interfering.”

"Speaking about Baseball, Mantle told me this great joke the other day. Stop me if you've heard it. "Do you know why there are so few Jewish Ballplayers? Because it is impossible to make the symbol of a

'Star of David,' across your chest with one hand, so they either have to drop the bat, or konk themselves, on the head."

"That reminds me, I have got to take that slingshot away from David, he is always flinging pebbles at Michelangelo, yelling, 'You son of a bitch, size does count!'"



"Who is this man?” I thought. If he was God, he didn't need my convincing, he loved the job too, much. He had already decided to block the takeover of Heaven.



“You've mentioned Nixon and Mantle, frankly I am surprised that they are in heaven." I stated.

For the first time all afternoon, God looked angry, "Don't judge anybody! That is my job" But, the anger was momentary, there would be no plagues upon my home. God had evolved from the days of the Old Testament.



"What do you think that you are so perfect? Remember that young lady in Toledo?"



"If I disallowed all sinners, it would just be me and Gandhi. You try looking at a bald man in his underwear all day, see how you like it."



It was getting dark, I knew that he'd have to leave soon, I figured that I should get back to "God's Will."



"You mentioned your son earlier, is that who you want to leave all of your assets to?"

"I'm not sure. He's a nice boy, but he never calls, he never writes. I'm taking a short vacation, go south for the weather, maybe even visit my sister, I'll call you when I get back."

"God, I've read a lot about you, but until today, I've never heard that you had a sister."

"I'm sure that you have, she commonly goes by her nickname, 'Auntie Christ.'"

For my first 50 years I lived a simple life. As a Lawyer, I had filled my quota of 6 friends. You see, I am a registered Democrat, and the New York State Bar clearly prohibits Attorney with that political affiliation from having in excess of 6 friends. Why was it even necessary to enact such a regulation? Has anybody ever known a Lawyer to have as many as six people who admit that they like him? Of course, the Republican Lawyers are allowed 8 friends, because at least two, are at all times, in danger of being filibustered out.

My problems began at age 50, this aging curmudgeon, suddenly found unrequited popularity. Why at age 50 did I suddenly become popular? One day, when 4 of my 6 friends were golfing (required activity for aging, fat Attorneys), and the others, I never particularly liked, but they served to fill my quota, I discovered social media. To be exact, Facebook.

Suddenly I had 300 friends, all of whom have “adorable” cats. I had 400 friends, but 100 Republicans filibustered me out when I refused to repeat the mantra, “Ann Coulter is my ideal woman.”

I am now a “friend” of the guy who beat me up for my Tuna Fish sandwich in 1963. I am friends with the High School Basketball team, who all are reliving the one game that they in 1979. I am friends with my twelfth grade English teacher, who I still haven’t forgiven for making me read Siddhartha.

On top of the potential disciplinary problems resulting from the New York State Bar Grievance Committee, for the excess friends (they also claim to have evidence that directly implicates me in an incident where a tag was removed from a mattress), I find that I am suffering from a dysfunctional LOLs. I know that I am not alone many men suffer from the embarrassment of a premature LOL.

My wife has long claimed that my habitual premature LOL shows a lack of consideration of her needs. To be fair, as often as I prematurely LOL, she will fake an LOL. She has the temerity to claim that every woman, at one time, has faked an LoL. Well they never faked them with me! To be perfectly frank, I don’t think that she ever forgave me for the time, that she caught me self-LOLing. I swear that I was thinking of her the whole time.

I came across a study out of the Boise Institute that concluded that the typical male will LOL within the 2 minutes of a text, but the typical woman needs that man to last for at least an hour, especially when describing her day.

I have explained to her that I don’t do it on purpose and that I LOL so quickly because I love her so much.

Anyway, who is she to talk, after all of her fake LOLs. I asked my friend Bernie, you know, the guy who beat me for my Tuna Sandwich, if any woman had faked and LOL with him. Bernie of course said no, but he’d ask his cellmate, Tiny if any woman faked an LOL with him, but it will have to wait until Tiny is released from solitary confinement.