Feel the pride

Here's a comment someone left at the local news website where the story of my criminal cousins is displayed:

"Those two inbreds look like something from the Island of Dr. Moreau."

The last time my cousin Dearl, pronounced "Durrell," rhymes with squirrel, talked to me was Superbowl Sunday a few years back. He called to find out the point spread on the big game and when I told him what it was he asked if I knew any bookies who would take some of his action. I told him I did not since I do not bet on sports, so his next question was did I want to bet him on the game. I reminded him I didn't bet on sports and then I reminded him that I had just told him that. He didn't care for my tone of voice so he hung up on me. That was about 6 years ago.

The last time I saw my cousin Connie she had her own business cleaning houses and she seemed to be the only sane person in her family. But I guess the lure of white trash-ism was too strong for her or perhaps she tuned into the siren song of homemade meth and that's all she could hear. Either way her life is in the crapper now. Funny thing though, she and I are the same age but she looks like she's a haggard looking 60 and I look like I'm 45, which I am.

I'm all eat up with family pride and I'm praying to the monkey gods the bore me that neither one of them calls me to be a character witness at their trials because I'll have no choice but to tell the truth about their sordid past.

And in case any of you were wondering, yes, both of them have reproduced.