Thack You: I see no problem with Guy Fieri
Larry Thack wishes to acknowledge and bewail your manifold sins and wickedness

Thack You: I see no problem with Guy Fieri

Larry Thack will travel to the mountains this weekend to spread his ashes into a brook

Friday morning started poorly for me. As I rolled my garbage can to the street I heard the wailing of the air raid sirens. I deftly snuck back into the house using a trash bag for cover. I gathered my supplies: gas mask, rake for removing unexploded bombs, and a stack of Punch Magazines and headed for the Anderson shelter I built in the backyard.
The sirens got louder as I ran to the shelter and I could hear the planes descending on our hamlet. Monthly I will do this drill to stay prepared but there’s nothing like the real thing. Panic has set in and everything is going wrong. The normal path I take to the shelter is now lined with traps that foil our hero. I snag my shirtsleeve on the springs of a rusty trampoline that belonged to a daughter who is now a pensioner but refuses to let me get rid of the decaying accumulation. Back to the house for the first aid kit!
As I navigate through the grassless pity, I’m confronted by an ever-widening expanse of corpses just like the scene at Andersonville. My poorly-groomed backyard is a graveyard of Ikea solar porch lights that have blown off the deck. Not unlike war, buying a solar porchlight is always a tragic mistake. On my return to the shelter I recoil at a new crisis – an empty birdfeeder. I could be stuck in the shelter for days. I have one tiny window with a cleverly positioned bird house in plain sight. I shall have nothing to peer out my tiny hole at without seed in the feeder. I start back for the seed but see my neighbor, Randy, coming for a visit. I change course and lock myself in the shelter. I shall have no birds to entertain me and possibly no Randy.
I awaken later that evening and it seems we’ve survived the day. Once I’ve raked the UXBs off the lawn I’ll do some fire-watching from the roof. After putting two and two together it seems that I’ve mistaken the events of the morning with a tornado-siren test and a fleet of garbage trucks. On the “bright side,” I have successfully killed an entire day without talking to a soul and now I’m ready to settle in and watch “Diner’s, Drive-ins, and Dives” as it repeats episodes into the night. Beats the hell out of wandering around the mall.