What I’d do for an ice cream bar

Ice cream bar commercials make me wonder what I’d do for one.
After solemn deliberation, here are a few things:
• Watch first-graders play volleyball.
• Play “Words with Friends” against Alec Baldwin during takeoff.
• Sit on a front pew without smirking about the length of women’s skirts determining their fates.
• Fill out another reference form for another mediocre student I haven’t seen in 15 years.
• Stop sneering at militias who spew conspiracy theories about men in blue helmets.
• Serve as a Big Brother/Big Sister reference for someone I haven’t seen in 20 years (and didn’t think highly of them during the three months I knew them).
• Stifle yawning at basal-cell, skin-cancer survivors’ tales (I’ve had 12 of the routine surgeries).
• Resist telling “the rest of the story” on the blog of a former girlfriend who keeps mentioning her former boyfriend.
• Not laugh at young dudes who throw tantrums and quit because us old men are whipping them in basketball.
• Pretend I care about not mixing whites and colors.
• Prevent my jaw from dropping to the floor when told God created perfect organs and the devil created cancer.
• Not give a one-digit salute to someone crowing because the Redskins beat the Cowboys — like they caught the winning pass.
• Sit on the Clovis Wildcats side while cheering for the Portales Rams tennis team (I figure tennis fans are more genteel than football ones).
• Wear an Obama mask to a little girls’ tea party.
• Out closet liberals in Clovis, Portales and Mt. Vernon, Texas, secretly opposed to private ownership of surface-to-air missiles.
• Tell the next hostile reader that their email has convinced me of the error of my ways, and I will join them in praying for “smart women in real short skirts who know how to flirt” (paraphrasing Jimmy Buffett).

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