This morning I read an article on line that my daughter, Jess, had recommended to me.  It was entitled, “I don’t give a fuck.”  It had the word “fuck” in it at least 137 times as the author included that information in his article.  He is a very good writer and the article was not only very funny but very insightful.

I thanked Jess for the recommendation and proceeded to tell her that it brought back memories of my old best friend, Dirty Dave, and how depressed he was during his divorce.  He had married this little bit of a bitch girl who had no forehead and talked in decibels that made your face reverberate.  I was under that impression that no one was good enough to marry my best friend.  Well, maybe except Becky, of the luminous breasts.  Becky was so cool in the 70’s she wore a white dress to a wedding of a friend and you could see her dark nipples through the material.  The guys were all made of wood that day, I’m sure.

But Becky would have nothing to do with Dave because he was, of course, Dirty.  He did not take kindly to bathing.  He was a carpenter by trade and his hands were coarse from working in the weather.  He had drastically bad sinuses and probably couldn’t smell himself.  In his last years he took to wearing this most ungodly smelling deodorant that was almost as bad as smelling his b.o.

Anyhow back to the divorce.  His little fairy bitch of a wife with no forehead decided that she wanted more out of life and decided to ditch Dave.  He was so sad.  I couldn’t believe my buddy who I couldn’t spend 10 minutes with without laughing my ass off.  (Oh dear, LMAO in the honest sense.)  But truly, he was so funny and had the greatest sense of humor.  On the day of his divorce he headed to a bar and happened upon one called “Fuck Off And Die”.  He bought a baseball hat and wore it to our house where he crashed for the night.

Ferb was so impressed with the hat that he bought it from Dave.  Dave needed money at the time.  (We have lots of photos with different people wearing the FOAD hat.)  Dave came around a lot during this divorce time.  You’d try to talk to him about something and he’d just say, “I don’t give a shit.”  So I got into a foul mood one evening and barked back that “I don’t give a shit either.”  It was presidential election time about then and Dave suggests that we run for President and Vice President on the “I Don’t Give A Shit”, party’s ticket.  We laughed so hard we cried.

He was a wonderful friend and I am so sorry that we lost him early.