Because most philosophies that frown on reproduction don't survive.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

My dad's favorite story

My father had three younger sisters, and so endured much giggling and sisterly torment through the years. One day, however, everything changed. Dad still reflects upon the day that the golden window of brotherly payback was suddenly opened for him. Let him tell it:
I'm sure I've told this story many a time, but I never tire of telling it! My sisters adored the young "soprano" Donny Osmond (who had a range of octaves rivaling that of the young Michael Jackson). And, suffice it to say, I was not a convert. One glorious night, I was passing through the family room while dear Donny was crooning. Praise our wonder-working God! Donny's voice suddenly cracked as he unsuccessfully attempted to hit a very high note! The poor lad must have had a sudden burst of testosterone flowing through his adolescent bloodstream. I was unexpectedly showered with a great windfall of years of ammunition with which to blast my teeny-bopper sisters... It was a delicious reversal of fortunes on the order of magnitude of Wile E. Coyote sitting down to a sumptuous supper of baked road-runner. Completely unexpected and completely satisfying. Just wait until you get a few sons...
I believe that now Donny Osmond hosts a morning show in the Los Angeles radio market. Or is that Danny Bonaduce? Osmond, Partridge -- all the same to me.

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