Well, Lawdy, Lawdy, Lawdy, Miss Clawdy Girl, you sure look good to me But please don’t excite me, baby, I know it can’t be me. “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” written by Lloyd Price
Lately, I have caught myself calling upon the “Lord” quite a bit.
As in “Oh, Lord,” or “Lord help us,” or “Lord have mercy.”
I’m sure I picked up these phrases from my mother, because my father was a bit more colorful when he called upon the Lord.
The older I get, the more assistance I seem to need when it comes to love affairs, despair, doctor bills, gambling debts, lawsuits, standing up, or even reading the instructions on a microwavable burrito—all the things one must do to get through an average day.
Speaking of burritos, I went to the grand opening of the new Surcheros on Highway 44 across from Wing Max last week. I was hoping to be one of the first 50 customers in line so I could get free burritos for a year, as the chain promised in its ads.
Unfortunately, a contingent of rough-looking people—suspected by me, in the moment, of being Czechoslovakians (possibly having slipped into the country while ICE agents were busy at airports)—camped out in front of Surcheros to make sure they got the free burrito offer first. I had no shot.
Confounded Czechoslovakians!
A quick Google search revealed that burritos have recently become quite popular in Czechoslovakia. The Pepe Lopez restaurant location in Prague now offers a burrito that weighs almost four pounds!
Czech immigrants desperate to find a decent burrito have reportedly started pouring into Mexico, and some legacy media outlets even claim a Czechoslovakian woman has been elected to the Mexican Chamber of Deputies.
But you can’t trust legacy media anymore.
I was also lucky enough to attend the soft opening of the new Santoro’s Italian Kitchen on Lake Oconee Parkway (technically 1061 Village Park Drive) across from Singleton Marine.
We were given index cards to write down our opinions of the restaurant and the experience, and I wrote, “Five stars. Excellent in every respect.”
I didn’t see a single Czechoslovakian at Santoro’s.
I had the linguine pesto—which was excellent—and I am looking forward to trying the pizza when Santoro’s opens for real on May 7, the day this issue of the Lake Oconee News comes out.
I am now considering opening what I will call the Holy Roman Empire Buffet in the building that was supposed to be occupied by Rivian.
Our menu will be vast and diverse, so we’ll need a large facility. At the Holy Roman Empire Buffet, you could pick up a Wiener Schnitzel, Sauerbraten, Ratatouille, Dutch apple pie, a Swiss grilled cheese sandwich, or those thick Belgian waffles with hash browns, scrambled eggs, and two strips of bacon. I might call it Charlemagne’s All-Star.
I was going to include Kuljada soup, but that might attract Czechoslovakians to the spot.
But my Holy Roman Empire Buffet is a long way down the road. First, I’ll need to get all my love affairs sorted out, lawsuits settled, doctor bills paid, and gambling debts forgiven by my pal Vinnie. I also need to purchase one of those chairs that help you stand up, and a decent pair of glasses.
As of right now, all I can do is lament the arrival of another election season.
Politicians make big targets for newspaper columnists, so I should be in hog heaven, but I just feel hopeless and confused.
Democrats often present themselves as compassionate friends of the working man, while Republicans promise to lower taxes and save Georgians from illegal aliens.
According to the ads I’ve seen, gubernatorial candidate Burt Jones is “crooked as a dog’s hind leg,” and Rick Jackson “took advantage of seniors”—both described as “despicable.”
A word of warning: you must be careful when you say the word despicable.
If you use too much force or let your cheeks inflate when you say “despic,” you’ll need a paper towel to clean up the mess.
Lord, have mercy. Or as Elvis Presley might have put it: Lawdy, lawdy, lawdy.
Selah.