The DMV Gave Me My License, Not My Son

Ahoy, my dear readers. I just returned from my independent block patrol duties, and I am reporting nothing out of the ordinary to my overseer (myself)–I’ll fill out the official paperwork later today when I have some free time.

I’ve been noticing a lot of television commercials advertising politicians lately. The only bad thing is that they’re all for no-name candidates. Whatever happened to ads for the greats? Greats like Eisenhower, Nixon, Ford, Chevrolet, Chrysler, Dodge? I had both my cars in for oil changes yesterday. I had one in, then I drove it home and took the other. They tried to sell me on a tire rotation, but I told them, I said, “Why would I get one of those? My tires rotate every time I drive.” Now someone that doesn’t drive their car very often might need one of those, but not someone like me. My son Brian is always trying to take away my keys. I think he got the idea from some television program that told him what to do. But I told him that it’s the DMV that gave me my license, and they’re the ones that are going to have to make me give it back.

I spoke with my grandson Max yesterday, and he’s taken the responsibility of guest blogging for this lifestyle column upon himself tomorrow. That’s just the way he is, always taking on additional responsibilities. Of course, I know the millionaire’s swimming pool Max has been tasked with maintaining in his new line of work (pool boy) is spotless, but I would imagine that he’s keeping the surrounding area every bit as clean.

Until next time!


The Codger


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