The Typical El Pasoan

There are the best of times, there are the worst of times, and there are the times when we think we know it all, but, deep down, are just hoping we get away with cribbing a few lines from a classic novel that no one has read for the last hundred years or so.
     Since I was a young child I wondered:  if you sit a million monkeys in front of a million typewritters for a million years, would one of them write the complete works of Shakespeare, or would you just end up with a room full of decomposing monkeys?
     I've always had a thirst for knowledge.  Forget curling irons, as a young child I wondered if you were to use a smaller and smaller chute each time you went skydiving would you eventually reach the point where you would need no chute at all?
     I think I know what makes El Paso tick, but I believe my thirst for knowledge has been translated into a language I don't speak.  No matter, as I am currently fixated on writing this column.  Unfortunately, I have neither a subject, nor the desire to find a subject.  I could drive someplace, but that would take effort on my part.  Besides, I'd rather stay home.  That gave me an idea.  I know El Paso like I know the back of my hand, so I thought I would concentrate on me.
     First things first, who am I?  To find out I pulled out my wallet and took a peek inside.  There was a driver's license, two credit cards, and an old ticket stub to the Justin Beiber movie.
     Don't judge me.  It was the special edition.
     I walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  Besides the usual staples, I found a half-eaten Chicken MacChicken.  Wouldn't you know it?  I hate chicken.  Especially Chicken MacChickens.  So I guess your typical El Pasoan's typical diet consists of things he typically doesn't like to eat, but are cheap enough that he does.  Wait a minute...  what's that?  Two six-packs of Wicked Beer!  I guess this typical El Pasoan knows how to live after all.
     I continued my tour.  I walked into the living room.  It was sparsely furnished.  The couches looked old.  The pictures on the wall were of the Pic-N-Sav variety.  Apparently, the typical El Pasoan has recently been divorced, and his ex-wife absconded with all the good furniture.
     I walked through the three bedrooms.  Two of the bedrooms were essentially empty, used more for storage than anything else.  The master bedroom had a flat-screen TV, DVD player, and the first season box-set of Saturday Night Live. 
     Hmm...  that's odd.  No bed, just a mattress on the floor.  That can't be comfortable.  I'll just lay on it for a few seconds so...  I can...zzz...
     I was wrong.  It wasn't a mattress, after all.  It was a time machine.  When I lay down on it it immediately transported me approximately 8 hours into the future.  It would seem your typical El Pasoan isn't so typical.  And, hey, lookee there:  pictures of his kids.  I bet he misses them.  This gives me hope for El Paso. 
     The typical El Pasoan is not such a bad guy after all.
     I am Jim Duchene, and you're not.
 
 

  Fifty Shades of Humor

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