Every year until just before he passed away, my father would call or send a postcard:

Eschew Communism!

Beware the Ideas of Marx!


So every year I pour a dram of Bushmill's and toast him:

Here's to the old man.

Here's to you, Mr. R. Ted, I think you must have been very lucky to have had him as your father.

*sigh* And he was very lucky to have you as a son. I like to see this post every year, TED. It's such a lovely tribute.

One of these days, you should tell us more about your dad. I beleive nobody ever leaves that is remembered.

This explains a lot. [struggling-to-keep-a-straight-face emoticon]

Your father had the good Irish luck to inherit some of your more endearing traits, Ted.
I like him.
Anyone who bewares the ideas of Marx is a friend of mine.
I set down an empty glass (or two) in your late father's honor.

Why a duck?

I'm alright. How are you?

Because I like quackers with my soup.

To the Mr. Remingtons (clink)

and the little shavers and especially to Miz Peggy (Pour her two for putting up with ewe )

THanks, TEd. I've gotten to the point where I need to see this once a year.

(what's 17.5% on top of a dram?)