Velociworld

Bastille Day

Today is my parents' collective birthday. The Senator would have been 81. Mom 79. My father always resented the fact that the French didn't employ some of that Nostradamus shit, and divine that he would be born on that date later, and they should start their revolution gone bad another day. Say, Friday the 13th.

The Senator never liked the French. "How can you trust people," he'd tell me, "that fight with their feet and fuck with their face?"

Bless him. Never told him there was something to be said for that second part.

Anyway, happy birthday, my loving creators.

Oh, an aside: my mother was quite the naif. She wouldn't let the Senator near her until, like, the second month of marriage. He finally had to go over to her parents house and say what's the deal here? Refund?

I don't blame her though. She was so naive he had convinced her that opossums had sex with their faces, just like Frenchmen, and she believed it. And apparently unfortunately the old man queered the whole sex thing with that practical joke, I reckon.

The best part? My mother was 50 years old before she told us that story, and we had to sit her down, and say, hey...