Now that's just wrong.

We get a wonderful monthly newspaper called The Funny Times. It's composed of humorous cartoons and articles, some of which are pretty universal but many of which have a decidedly liberal slant. We enjoy it very much, needless to say. One of the regular contributors is Mr. Throaty himself, Garrison Keillor. The man's speaking voice makes me want to rip the radio from the car and fling it out the window. Speak up, willya?! But he's a funny writer. Anyway, today I was reading the newest issue which had just arrived in the mail and I saw a sentence that stopped me in my tracks. It included the words "my eight year old daughter." I couldn't read any further than that. I looked at the sentence. I looked at the byline. I read the sentence again. I read the entire paragraph, certain I had misread it somewhere. But no. Apparently this, forgive me, ancient human being has a child younger than one of my own. And all I could think to myself was, "Damn. It must be nice to be a man." How many 66 year old women do you know with 8 year old kids? If I were 66 and trying to raise my daughter at the age she is now, I'd just check myself into an old age home and let the nurses deal with her. But I'm guessing he probably has some lithesome wife at home who can handle the chasing and the running around while he sits back and gurgles about Powdermilk Biscuits. Some days I just wish I'd been born a man.