Thorn in my dad's side

Well, I'm resisting an urge--found out that McCormick has these nifty peppercorn-grinder things. Not just the grinder, the grinder's integrated into the normal packaging. The urge I'm resisting is the one that usually goes, "Dad, I went to the store and looked for [your] version of my favorite spice (Garlic Pepper Blend by McCormick) but it wasn't there."

I'm sure he appreciates me bringing that up. He'll never read this. And it'll take just a little research to find out what goes where "[your]" is, gentle reader.

The reason I thought of this (originally) was that the Kingpin, I suppose after John Gotti got to be such a Name, was often obliquely referred to as a "humble dealer in spices." Nobody ever meant it (thus always in Reuterquotes), but that what they called him. So my dad runs this spice company in Gonzales, TX [more or less: he's over Operations and Financial and actually works for the people that own the company] and every once in a while he gets to talking about various stuff that happened in a week and I think of my dad as "a humble dealer in spices." But he's not fat and doesn't have peoples' legs broken or anything. He's an accountant. And, like digital cable and high speed Internet, the costumed vigilante element doesn't run all the way out to Gonzales, TX. But they should. It's really really nice there if you don't mind the aforementioned lack of digital cable and high speed Internet.

Brings to mind another visual of 200-lb Daddy swinging his 240-lb Former Tax Exemption #1 around by his ankles. Or him ruining my life and then blowing up my apartment and me thinking, "Dad, you shouldn't have signed it..."

Humble dealer in spices. My dad.