My Dad loved to utter funny quips and epithets. If someone would ask him "Did you get your hair cut?" he would say "I got all of them cut!" One favorite saying that seemed to come up repeatedly was "What do you think it is, your birthday?". This was used especially on birthdays. There were a couple of fairly predictable responses to whining: "My heart pumps piss for you!" or "You want sympathy? Look into the dictionary, right between shit and syphilis." My Dad tended to minimize any discomfort or distress from his illness. When asked "How do you feel?" he might say "With my hands." Or, I might ask him "What did you do today?" He would say "Oh, just donating my time!" And then there were the limericks. A few of them became iconic for me, especially the one about the poor Scotsman Jock. On more than one occasion, while answering a call of nature on a camping trip, I considered poor Jock's plight:
"There once was a Scotsman named Jock,
who had a terrible shock.
He took a shit in a leaf-covered pit,
and the crap sprung a trap on his c - - k."
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