What, you’re afraid of that? By Grandpa

Hey there, bud. Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. Talk slower, your pappy doesn’t have the best of hearing anymore.

Say that again. Huh? You’re afraid? Okay, okay, what are you afraid of?

What, you’re afraid of that? No, no, seriously, that?

Bud, come on now. Stop that crying and whining. I hate to say this, but you’re acting like a pansy or like those crazy liberals during good ol’ Reagan times.

You shouldn’t be afraid of that at all. In fact, when I was your age, skipper, I’d be thankful to have that in my life. Back in the day, we were all afraid of legitimate things like them tuberculosis and tetanus germs and communism and bombs and hippies taking over the world. Sometimes, you’d hear about a communistic tuberculosis bomb launched by them hippies, and you’d shit yourself.

Every day, we lived in complete terror, worried that the family’d starve or just up and die of a gas explosion. Let me tell you, we didn’t have all the welfare or fancy doodads that let you know about carbo moxinide or whatever the science guys call it. We didn’t even think about what you’re all up and tight about. If all we had to worry about was what’s screwing you in the head like a nail on the side of a barn, we’d be happy campers.

Stop pouting now. Kids would call you a pussy if you were growing up in the good days. If you need to be afraid of anything, be afraid of the upcoming liberal agenda. Now that’s what’s got me shivering in my slacks.