Last week, Jasper and Beth Daniels ended their fifty year marriage, citing each other’s blindness as the main reason.

                         “I hate his face,” said Beth.  “And although I’ve never really seen his face, I have touched the skin and contours of his grill, and it reminds me of a volcano surrounded by a McDonald’s, surrounded by two dumpsters.  And the dumpsters are full of decomposing Big Macs and Quarter Pounders with Limburger Cheese.   And… Mayor McCheese is doing something in one of the dumpsters, without his clothes on, that would be considered illegal in forty states, insane in nine states, and performance art… in Kentucky.”

                        “I hate her face,” said Jasper.  “And although I have never actually seen her face, I have fondled the likes of her nose, lips and eyes with my fingers… and lately with my 3-D Powerpoint Braille Etch A Sketch.  And her face reminds  me of the under side of an armadillo… after it’s been run over by covered wagon hauling frozen armadillos.”

                             Beth and Jasper met fifty-one years ago today when they were both members of a group called the Solar Eclipses Watcher’s Club.  Apparently, the group only had one gathering and then the club disbanded due to a precipitous drop in membership.  Attempts to form a shadow group called the Lunar Eclipses Watcher’s Group failed as well.

                       “I hate the way he makes love to me,” said Beth.  “Three minutes and he’s done.  It’s so frustrating… mainly because he’s so blind that he often mistakes the folds in his Bomber Jacket with the folds in my honey pot.”

                       “Well, at least my Bomber Jacket occasionally has an orgasm,” said Jasper.   “She’s so dried out, that last month, I saw a tumbleweed roll out of her vagina.  That’s an image I can’t get out of my mind… and I’m blind!”

                 “He’s like Mr. Magoo on steroids,” said Beth.  “If only he were like Mr. Magoo on Viagra, then we might not be having this conversation right now.”

                 “What do you want from me?  I’m eighty-seven and blind,” Jasper said.   “Sometimes my performance might not spectacular.”

                   And then Beth closed with, “Well… maybe your understudy can finally bring down my curtains.”