I know one person that didn’t watch the presidential debate last night. A buddy of mine by the name of Jimmy O’Brien.
Jimmy has been thirty-three years old for the last twenty-three years. Since OB has been suspended at the same age for all these years…
… I ended up marrying the young girlfriend that he never got a chance to meet. He was planning on coming to Chicago in October and hopefully find the time to tell her why I’m an assclown.
Jimmy has been that same age while I became the father of three children. One of them born on OB’s birthday of July twenty-fourth.
Jimmy’s three kids all became adults during the time he’s been stuck at the age of thirty-three.
Stuck at thirty-three years old throughout my marriage and into my divorce. Stuck at thirty-three while I finished my thirties. Finished my forties and am getting damn fucking close to finishing my fifties.
I have lost my mom, I’ve lost my marriage, I’ve lost my trading floor, I’ve lost my dad….
… but my friend from Brooklyn is still thirty-three years old. He hasn’t lost anything in his twenty-three years as a thirty-three year old.
I wonder what would happen these next twenty-three years, if I don’t make it home from work tonight?
What would I miss between 2024 and 2047?
I wouldn’t have to watch the Shepkids grow into their thirties and forties. I wouldn’t have to schlep out to some university and watch them graduate. I wouldn’t have to watch them become parents. I wouldn’t have to share grandchildren with their mother.
Geez, if I don’t make it home today, I won’t get to see the White Sox lose over 120 games this season. I won’t get to see the Bears go through another shitty quarterback. I won’t be able to watch soccer become a major sport in America.
If I don’t come home from work today, I won’t have to watch my friends, my family and my colleagues get old and die.
I can be fifty-eight forever….
…if I don’t make it home after work today.
Shit Jimmy... Those muslims did you a solid kid! Just think of all the grief and bullshit you missed out on?!?!
Being stuck at thirty-three years old is a pretty good deal.
No more mortgage payments on the house in Park Slope. No tuition payments to Syracuse. No more George Bailey on Christmas Eve. No wedding reception headaches. No watching the love of your life go through menopause.
…and you don’t have to go to work today and listen to everyone talk about the prick and the mutt looking like a couple dumb fucks at their podiums last night!
Stuck at the age of thirty-three sure did make your life easier.
Well, maybe I won’t take life for granted as much OB?
I guess I’ll go ahead and make dinner for the Shepkids tonight. I’ll ask them about homework. I’ll bitch at one of them about something or another. I’ll go ahead and get sad when I drop two of them off with their mother. Finally, before I go to bed, I’ll tell the oldest Shepkid that I love him.
Just think Jimmy… you and Jesus both got whacked at the same age.
No smile on the sun today, get home safe and be astonished
