Freddogg Off The Chain

A fat white flat headed grandpop.

Son Jack is getting married today and I must shed my white socks and become the Blue Blazer Kaki Pants loser guy in slippery black socks. Years ago I heard comedian Thayton Allen say every time he word black socks he felt like the leading man in a stag movie. Black Socks just don’t go with white jockey shorts.

Back in 1969 I stood in the back of Saint Michael’s church in Levittown as the recently married black sock wearing loser groom in the receiving line. I always hated ceremony because I just don’t trust sincerity.

A 380 pound best friend neighbor to my in-laws misnamed “Flow” ‘huggy beared’ me in the line and said, ”I actually like you. Prove to the rest of these people that they are wrong about you.”

I thought that was hilarious and when my brother got married his wife’s family was equally suspicious and boy were they right. And they really didn’t like me because I laughed when Nancy told me she had been crowned Miss State Tractor Queen of the Pennsylvania Combines.

Susan and Nancy are so much smarter and nicer than their Fred Boy husbands so I guess those fears so many years ago were well founded but 37 years later we’ll both show up at the wedding wherever it is but we ain’t doing no Mexican Hat Dance, Bunny Hop or Dreaded Hokey Pokey.

Last night Susan’s totally blind uncle ask me if I had put on weight, which I haven’t, he just thought I sounded bigger when the sound of his voice bounced was deadened by my body.

Looks like I picked the wrong day to quit drinking.

Freddoggie Daddy