23 minutes ago
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Letters To The Editor
You can perhaps imagine my surprise when I woke up and saw my wife's words --or at least words attributed to her-- right there on the front page of the Daily Banner: "God only knows what Richard was thinking. I'm as shocked as anyone and want to apologize to the entire community."
You do that, Veronica. Put on a black shawl and drag yourself up and down every block of this jerkwater shithole; hang your head on every doorstep and apologize for the fact that your husband of 19 years took a piss in his own fucking driveway. I'm sure that will bring a world of comfort to all those poor suffering folks who are at this very moment cowering behind their locked doors, terrified by the news that a man, a "respected optometrist," has taken a piss in his driveway, "in broad daylight, and in full view of the entire neighborhood."
I've no doubt that's something you'd love to believe, Ronnie, that the eyes of the "entire neighborhood" are riveted on our house 24-7, endlessly fascinated by our every movement. Problem is, we don't live in a "neighborhood"; we live in a fucking suburban development, and people who live in the suburbs should just expect that once in a while they're going to see a man taking a piss in his own driveway.
Just for the hell of it, I'll remind you, Ronnie, that it was 7:45 in the morning, and like every other Tuesday morning of my life you and the girls were camped out in the bathrooms, preparing yourselves for your daily appearance before the prying eyes of the "neighborhood." I bang and curse, but it does no good, and so when I finally stumbled out to the driveway for the morning paper I paused and took a piss. I was, I'll grant you, at least technically in the driveway, but I was wearing a bathrobe, slippers, and boxers, and I very deliberately turned my back and pissed into the bushes next to the porch.
If Pam Ryman called the police every time I took a piss on my own property then you'd really have something to cry about, Ronnie, because I've got news for you: I've pissed off the deck. I've pissed right off the front porch. I've pissed in the front and back yards. I've marked my goddamn territory and have experienced something approaching genuine pleasure on every occasion. If Duane Ryman can claim to his wife with a straight face that he's never pissed in his own yard he's not only the fop I imagine him to be but a stinking, pussy-whipped liar to boot.