I couldn't sit at the computer very long last night because my parents were in the same room and the TV was blaring. It's Public Television membership drive time and the God of all Silverbacks was helping raise money for a possible dying form of TV. The dark one, Daniel O'Donnell was hawking his Irish goods and lulling the grey set with his tenorish warbling. According to my father there is no better singer than Danny O'Donnell. My father jokingly asked if I could hear the TV and cranked the volume as high as he could, doing this only because I was trying to listen to youtube videos and I was wearing my head phones. Ha ha dad. My parents received no less than 3 phone calls from other grey heads telling them he was on the tube. The O'Donnell minion network. It sort of scares me like something from Rosemary's Baby. Ten minutes into the program my father was sawing logs. I think O'Donnell is spinning some dark web. I stayed in the room long enough to listen to O'Donnell while he was being interviewed and heard him tell how he had talked to a donor on the phone, she had said how much loved his music and asked if it would be alright to play some of his songs at her husband's funeral. O'Donnell was so soft spoken proud. Good God. He brogueingly muttered something about where he lives in beautiful downtown Ireland with his wife Vagina. I swear he said Vagina, but I Wikipedia-ed him and found her name actually to be Majella which may be how you say Vagina in Irish. Who knows?
I had to leave the room. I also learned on Wikipedia that he is the same age as I am. Maybe I am just jealous. I mean, I can sing, all I would have to do is start covering every song by Bobby Vinton, Elvis in his later years and a few Irish standards and maybe I too could rule the retired set.
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