FAMILY TRADITIONS TURN MACABRE……zuki gets case of the ass

animal-house-food-fightGood Morning Ignatius Paroxysms,

I trust this brick to the head finds you well fed and perhaps grateful for your part in life’s rich pageant.

I had the occasion of attending a more or less formal dinner gathering and enjoyed this year’s feast. It was a bit more savory than previous years and was particularly pleased about not having to deal with the icy winds found under the viaduct.

Funny this business of family traditions, as they’re handed down to each generation who in turn pass it on to their offspring injecting their own little twists and variations.

Like an orphan to be pitied, over the years I’ve been invited to countless family gatherings as a guest. Weddings, Bar mitzvahs, birthdays, Christmas, and the occasional BBQ, I’ve been able to observe many such traditions. I’ve seen drunken toasts turn into fist-fights, public pant-splitting, and one of my favorites; a proud father of the bride French kissing all the bridesmaids, blindsiding them one by one. However, all of it pales compared to a long-held family tradition from Cush who is reluctantly one of our own.

Evidently, Thanksgiving conducted by my dear friend (I suspect a wide-spread Teamster practice) involves photos of each in-law, spouse, and child’s ass to review on each successive holiday. This bizarre ritual is always preceded by several bottles of Jägermeister combined with THC levels at near fatal. Truth be known, Social Services should be involved.

Last year I happened to stop by to wish my friends a happy Thanksgiving but instead was treated to a full frontal view of family lore. I nearly lost my dressing! Family members were circled around the dinner table naked, and in turn, would pass the camera to the member on the left then bend over allowing a close up of their respective extruders. Then with a flash, the image is frozen in time by the camera. Not wishing to surprise them I backed off the porch and jumped into my car and then threw up in my mouth.

I continue to maintain and think the above story confirms my fear of a weekend in the woods. I remain dazed and confused.