by Rose A. Valenta

Created on: June 22, 2009

Aunt Millie's Take on Britain's Got Talent

Two months ago, I was sitting at the kitchen table with my 95 year-old Aunt, Millie. I was drinking tea and she was reading the newspaper with her 6" magnifying glass, while dunking sugar cookies into a glass of cold milk.

"Land sakes," she said. "Looky here, some poor man named Stavros Flatley wants to dance naked in front of the Queen of England," She gasped. "Why, he even has a young son that he is encouraging to be a delinquent. When I was a girl, my mother told me this was coming. She blamed it all on the Turkey Trot. You know, all that dance exhibitionism is the work of Satan. They should have elected Pat Robertson President."

"Yes," I answered politely. "Did you ever dance the Turkey Trot?" I asked.

"Heavens no!" she responded. "They fired five of my best friends from the publishing company for doing that on their lunch hour. I couldn't watch. There was my friend Elvira acting like a little hussy over by the Dixie cup dispenser. You know, it was real similar to that Susan Boyle swiveling her hips at Piers Morgan - just like that Elvis, used to do on Ed Sullivan - during that 'Britain's Got Talent' show. It's shameful!"

"Well, Aunt Millie, there is nothing we can do about that. Would you like some tea?" I asked.

"Not on your life," she answered. "I'm switching to coffee. I ain't supporting those heathens."

"But, Aunt Millie, Greek dancers don't drink tea, they drink uzo."

"Yeah, and I heard tell that they also read Homer Simpson, instead of the bible."

"Who ever told you a thing like that?"

"Buffalo Joe," she responded.

Just then, my 10-year-old grandson, the great nephew, whom she refers to as 'Buffalo Joe' because she says he lies about his homework, came in and turned on his Laptop. He logged on to YouTube and it went downhill after that.

First , he watched a little Fred Figglehorn, which was also the first time I ever heard Aunt Millie cuss. She wasn't quick enough to hit the off switch before Buffalo Joe quickly ran into the living room with the computer.

"Why, that child needs some real human beings as friends," she muttered. "He must have listened to that little instigator, Fred, 20 times last night instead of doing homework."

I went downstairs to do some laundry.

The next time I saw Aunt Millie, she was duct taped to a rocking chair. The laptop sat on top of a nearby ottoman, loudly showing a YouTube video of Stavros Flatley.

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