The Colonel said the old man should have lowered the flag because Justice Scalia had passed away. The old man told him to go fuck himself. That’s my brother’s flag. That flag – draped over Little Mike’s coffin from Vietnam – would never honor that judge. Nosir. The local county offices didn’t even lower their flags. That alleged Originalist, what a laugh, was a complete tool, a screwdriver, yeah, that’s it and now we’re screwed for generations.
Lower the flag, my ass. Felt more like shooting skyrockets into the clouds.
Your flag is looking a little thin, maybe even frayed, Col. Amick continued. Like thin and frayed was a bad thing after fifty years of service. That flag came with a Purple Heart and the Distinguished Service Cross.
If you bring it down to the guardhouse, I’ll show you how to properly dispose of it.
Colonel Amick was a radical Republican jihadist. The old man was certain. In what world is Ted Cruz the lesser of two evils? Think about it. Please.
First time he’d ever felt like he was voting for a new gang leader. And we shouldn’t accept ugliness as the new norm.
The old man claimed to have five grandchildren. Although he never saw them, he still cared. The young redhead showed him photos of the kids on Facebook.
Family is what life is all about. The old man wasn’t absolutely positively sure that was true but it sounded good. All he could do was make his neighborhood great again.
The old man had a code. Some of the code he didn’t remember, a couple other tenets, well, he had aged out. Never lose a bar fight. Unless things turned gnarly mid-afternoon at the Bonefish Grill, should be safe.
Two of the keys to getting old are avoidance and adaptation. You should be taking notes, he told the dog.
A savvy lady friend had once told the old man, he could do whatever he wanted, you just can’t be mean. Seemed simple enough.
Colonel D. Bob Amick… the old man’s mood brightened as he thought how to properly dispose of it.
