Comment on What a bunch of pratts

2008-02-15T05:56:56Z

Area Senior Remembers A Simpler Time When His Anus Didn't Leak
The Onion February 2, 2008 |2008 | Issue 44•05

CARSON CITY, NV—Looking out his window as the cars zoom by and a jet plane rumbles overhead, 87-year-old Hank Fletcher sees a world far different from the one in which he grew up. In his day, the retired factory worker says, life was simpler. The streets were quieter, people were more polite, neighbors all knew one another, and his anus did not emit oily discharges of liquid stool.

But times have changed.

"When I was a young man, there was no uncertainty in the world—dinner was at 5:30 sharp, people who got married stayed that way, and my anus didn't leak," Fletcher says. "I can still remember playing stickball till the sun dipped below the trees. Why, I'd round the bases pretending I was Rogers Hornsby without ever having to think about a viscous brown liquid trickling down my leg. The future seemed so bright."

Hank Fletcher sits on his fifth couch in as many months and reminisces about the good old days of dry pants.

As time marches on, Fletcher remains one of the last direct links to a bygone era of American life when people passed their evenings relaxing by the fireside or listening to Hopalong Cassidy on the radio. Mothers and fathers would sit on couches free from protective plastic covers, and children would play games in the corner, oblivious to the crime, famine, and warm streams of fluid seeping out of their anal cavities that seem so commonplace today.

"How I loved to stroll down the promenade arm in arm with my best gal, Dorothy," Fletcher says, shifting in his chair as he pages wistfully through a faded old scrapbook. "We'd talk and laugh, unconstrained by bulky plastic sacks tied to our waists, and go into all the shops—never to buy anything, of course, just to look and to dream. We'd wander along the boardwalk all evening, she with her blue Gainsborough hat and I with my clean underpants, all the while holding hands and not ejecting fecal matter from our anuses."

"But Dorothy's been gone for many a year now," he adds as he closes the scrapbook, "and as for my anus, well, as I said before, it leaks constantly."

Seated on a rocking chair covered in a blue tarpaulin to protect the wood from foul-smelling stains, Fletcher chuckled to recall how tiny and hard to come by TV sets were in those days. His family had only one car, he could see a movie for a quarter, soda pop only cost a nickel, and his sphincter was strong enough to expand and contract when he intended instead of hanging permanently open like an unlatched floodgate.

"Back then, the days were as cool and sweet as a sip of lemonade, and the night sky was filled to the brim with bright shiny stars," Fletcher says. "Now there's so much noise and pollution that you can't even hear yourself think. People are always screaming and shouting for no good reason, zipping around from place to place, and the hustle and the bustle and my anus leaks, and it's all computers.

Comment on Our Grasping Government

2007-11-27T06:34:34Z

Yes, Gosport is a developer's dream and a resident's nightmare.I was going to say,'how can these people live with themselves?', but they don't have a conscience. It makes one want to believe in God.

Comment on Guns in the UK

2007-08-25T10:15:56Z

Just to say I agree. If they did not get money from the state - they would be poor and could not afford to buy guns. A motorcyclist being gunned down on the M40 after him minding his own business is a shamefull scenario, especially considering he could not shoot back.

Comment on DNA

2007-08-03T09:21:25Z

As I said I am an old git and can't stand the commercial stations. And radio one dirves me insaner than I am already

Comment on DNA

2007-08-03T08:46:37Z

You shouldn't listen to BBC2

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