One of the things that has hit the hardest during this pandemic is the fact that the boyos have lost the entire spring football season, or soccer to us septics. As the world's hairiest soccer mom i spend most of my time driving to and from practices and games and tournaments. There is nothing more i love to do than watch the boyos on the pitch (or on the basketball court). Each week i watch as the games slip past lost to a virus and while i'd love for them to be playing i'm also not going to run out to buy a big shiny dick and storm the state capital demanding football be played. Of course come fall if they try to cancel the Hand Egg season (american football) i'm sure there will be much moaning and wailing and storming of capitals. The I-mac got in exactly one game this spring, a 1-1 draw in his national league where he picked up where he left off. He scored off a a corner, a corner he had earned. This was after leading his club (America's oldest established 1898) in goals and assists last fall but i digress.
There are times over the fall and spring where i take one of the boyos solo to their tournament. I've learned that it's something the boyos and i both look forward to (as the Breadwinner sometimes fails to recognize it's about them and the games not some mini-vacation) as they get to spend the weekend with their old man while hanging in hotels with their team and generally doing what boyos do. Nick Disaster being the younger brother has had to go to more than his fair share of tournaments he wasn't playing in before he got old enough to play and so now he's mighty chuffed when it's just him and his daddio. That said one of the things we used to do to wind down at these things was watch a show called Z Nation. It was basically a Walking Dead rip-off with more humor and less brooding and a great character named Doc who is an unabashed stoner. Did i mention i have an irrational fear of zombies? I do. Hence why i never actually watched the Walking Dead but since Disaster loved Z Nation so much i'd watch it with him while we chilled out in our various hotel rooms.
And so it was one day that there was an episode that heavily involved the Juggalos. For anyone unfamiliar with this phenomenon here's a brief primer. There is an absolute shit rap group, Insane Clown Posse, who has a legion of fans who dress up like clowns and have their own strange and warped culture based on the music and musings of two of the biggest morons to ever take the stage. Now while i'm aware of this world i do my best to avoid it and while i'll acquiese to taste in music being a subjective thing, i'll still say this band is absolute dog shit. Disaster was a bit baffled by what was going on and began asking questions and by the end of the show he was pretty well versed in the world of the Juggalos and Juggelettes. Apparently the Juggalo call is a "whoop whoop", belted out whenever and wherever something excites them.
Back in the days of the Old Normal, my job as houseboy entailed the usual morning duties of houseboy's everywhere. I got the boyos out of bed, made breakfast, packed lunches when needed, organized shit, made sure they had their gym clothes, their homework and the what not. This was the last year they would have different start times to the school day, the I-mac being a half-hour earlier, i would drive him while Disaster hung at home watching cartoons or listening to tunes. The ritual was that when i got back from driving his big brother i'd yell to see if he was okay. One day after the Juggalo episode i came in the door and for fun i let out a "whoop whoop!", immediately from upstairs there was a "whoop whoop" in reply. I laughed out loud and from that day forward it became my new way of checking on him as soon as i got back and not once did it fail to bring a smile to my face when i heard his "whoop" in reply.
Now that we're in the New Normal i try to make sure i maintain a bit of what could be called old normalcy when we all understand that things are far from normal. So once or twice a day for no reason whatsoever i'll let out a "whoop whoop" and wait for the response which never fails to come right back and still never fails to bring a smile to my face. It's the little things that keep one sane, the ability to smile in the midst of the daily shit show known as America. Now back to our regularly scheduled program. (No Insane Clown Posse videos will be shown here for reasons of decorum and taste in music.)