JUNE 13th - An American Hero

This day in 1922 probably began like any other day for Charles Osborne. The sun rose. Charles woke up and went about the things a 30 year old in the 20's went about. Perhaps sneaking some illegal swigs of bourbon throughout the day--Prohibition and what not. Perhaps that was Charles' biggest concern of the day. Where to find some booze? Or maybe it wasn't. I'm not really sure how difficult it was to find illegal liquor during Prohibition. I don't think it was that hard. But Charles, being the responsible young man that he was probably wasn't imbibing to excess during the day because he had the grisly job of butchering a pig. When this fateful moment arrived, young Charles--perhaps by sheer accident, or perhaps because he'd taken a swig too many, or maybe because that pig was 350 lbs--slipped. 350lbs of live bacon fell on that poor bastard. But the resilient Charles was relatively unscathed. No broken bones or torn ligaments. But Charles Osborne developed a case of the hiccups (or hiccoughs, if you're one of those people). Nothing to be alarmed about. Rather lucky considering. Except the hiccups didn't go away after the first hour. Or the hour after that. Or the whole next day. The next week--still hiccuping. Months went by. Then years. Charles Osborne hiccuped over 435 million times over the course of 68 years because that big-ass pig apparently either damaged his abdomen muscle or caused the blood vessel that controls hiccups to burst in his brain. 435 million times. 68 years. I get annoyed with hiccups if they last over ten minutes. I chug water through a paper towel. Or hold my breath. Or try to scare myself. But dealing with that for 68 years? That's torture. Hiccups are like the gnats of the cough family. They don't hurt like a cough can. They aren't loud or obnoxious like a sneeze can be. They're just annoying. Like that kid in school who would constantly pull the "I'm-not-touching-you" gag. I wanted to kick that kid in the balls. The hiccups ceased when Charles was 97, and he died 11 months later which is all rather sad. But I choose to celebrate Charles Osborne, instead of wallowing in what might have been. Charles Osborne is a bonafide American hero. Anybody who can put up with the "I'm-not-touching-you" kid for 68 years and not go postal deserves respect. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat a Pulled Pork poboy in his honor.

This day has been Marked.

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