Mona Lisas and Red Hatters

Mother Dyckerson is really losing it. She has always been a little goofy...like the time she asked me to look at her TV remote because it wasn't working. Turns out she was trying to change channels with a calculator. Or the time I asked for a Dustbuster for Christmas, and she got me a Shop-Vac with a 10 gallon tank.

Now she has gone and joined something called the Red Hat Society. For those of you not familiar, the Red Hat Society is an ever-growing group composed of old bats on the verge of senility who convene on a regular basis for the sole purpose of making fools of themselves. They have local chapters around the country, so chances are you've seen them out in public. They are easily identifiable by rosy-colored head coverings.


What exactly does the Red Hat Society do, you ask?? A better question might be, what don't they do? For example, they don't raise money for charity. They don't read to the blind or make quilts for the children's hospital. They don't organize bake sales to raise money for the PTA. In fact, they don't seem to do anything constructive or meaningful in any way. They just have lots and lots of spare time.


Mother D's local chapter went to lunch last weekend. They got themselves a big table at Olive Garden, ordered ridiculous amounts of pasta, and gorged themselves like they were on one of them Japanese game shows. Oh yeah, and then they had a kazoo playing contest. That's right, a kazoo playing contest. Right there in the restaurant. Mother D won second prize - some cheap piece of crap from the Dollar Hole. Yeah, that's worth making an idiot of yourself in front of people who are trying to eat their calzones. If I was the manager of that Olive Garden, I would have called the cops and had them all arrested for disturbing the pizza.


I'm thinking of starting my own club, the Blue Hat Society. We'll engage in turf wars and commit violent acts against the Red Hats. If a Red Hat tries to enter our territory or even looks at us funny, we'll shank their wrinkled old asses. Or better yet, perhaps I'll form an Ass Hat Society. We'll drive around the neighborhood and blast our train horns in front of unwitting pedestrians. Yeah, that would be awesome!

Meanwhile, I'm going to start searching for a nut farm for Mother D...