Cranky Pants

Last week, Andy Rooney the patron saint of Curmudgeons, passed away.

Andy might have been getting a little long in the tooth and it was hard to concentrate on his rants while watching his hands tremble with 92 years worth of angst, nevertheless he was amusing. If for nothing else than his ability to dig into the minutiae of life and find the funny.

While mentioning his passing the other day at dinner, my youngest daughter said, "You should replace him."

"Why's that?" I asked, knowing full well she doesn't read this blog or pay any attention to my daily venting.

"Is it because going on TV every week and spouting off my ill-informed opinions and getting paid millions of dollars would be a dream job?" I asked.

"No."

"Is it because I have some limited ability to turn a phrase or make an insightful observation?"

"No."

"Is it because I have the courage to say what so many, or at least I assume so many, want to say but don't?"

"No, Daddy" she replied, "You'd be the perfect replacement for Andy Rooney 'cause you're a cranky old man."

I have raised a brutally honest daughter.

And then she added, "...and your eyebrows are bushy."