Bubba Has, Um, Well, Problems

“Timmons, I can’t remember being this down.”

The voice on the other end of the phone was clearly Bubba Castiron, a guy I loosely call a friend and one who is about 47 cards short of a full deck. Normally, he calls and tries some gimmick with a fake voice that takes oh, about half a millisecond to see through. Not today though. This was clearly his nasally dull twang with no hint at deception.

“What’s wrong, Bubba?”

“Well, sir,” he began. “I just found out that I have E.D. and I don’t know what to do about it. I mean this stuff is, well, you know, real important to me – and the missus – and we’re just at our wits end.”

I put my head in my hands. How do I get into these situations? If Bubba was having problems in the bedroom, why in the world would he tell me? Besides that, what do you say to someone after they tell you that?

“Gosh, Bubba, I’m real sorry to hear that. I expect that-”

“I’m sorry Timmons, I shouldn’t unload all this on you. But I’ve been watching the news on the Donald getting indicted. What a crock of-”

“Hey there, Bubba,” I jumped in, thankful for the change in subject. “I’d suggest we all just wait and see what happens next with Trump. The details of the indictment will come out soon and then we’ll have a better-”

“Oh hell, Timmons,” Bubba shot back. “You know where this is going. It’s Russia, Russia, Russia all over again. The Democrats keep going after Trump and going after Trump. The man didn’t do anything that a bunch of others haven’t done, including Hillary, Pence and the senile big guy himself, Biden. I mean c’mon man, that Durham feller admitted that they never had any correspondent evidence on that there crossfire hurricane investigation.”

“Corroborating.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“These guys have been going after the greatest president in U.S. history ever since he stepped off that golden elevator and announced he was running for the top job,” Bubba said.

Thing is, I’m not a Trump fan. The man is arrogant, pompous and as self-centered as they come. But it sure does seem that he is the target of one smear campaign after another – and most have been found out to have little to no substance.

“And then you look at the folks throwing their hat in the ring for president,” Bubba continued. “Everyone always talks about election choices being the lesser of evils – but this is getting ridiculous. What if Biden gets back in? Hell, he’s lost now, what will he be like in five or six years when he’s closer to 90 than he is 80? And Pence? He was on his way to losing the governor’s race before the Donald snatched him out of Indiana and put him in the White House.”

Bubba paused.

“I don’t know Timmons, this whole thing has got me lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut.”

“I get it, Bubba. Between that and your bedroom problem I can see-”

“What bedroom problem?”

“You said you were having problems with E.D., didn’t you?”

“Timmons, you media types don’t know nothing. I’ve got Electile Dysfunction. I’m plain sick of all the politics.”

“Electile? Electile? That’s not even a word, Bubba. Why do I even bother? Goodbye!”

I jammed the disconnect button but before my finger got there I heard Bubba yelling, “We got him again, boys!”

-Two cents, which is about how much Timmons said his columns are worth, appears periodically on Wednesdays in The Paper. Timmons is the publisher of The Paper and can be contacted at [email protected].