Ron Cherry went to heaven. On arriving at the Pearly Gates, St Peter asked him if he had done anything wrong in his life. He replied that he was Refereeing a game and with just a few minutes to go, and with one team up 21-17, he gave a penalty. 'But', he said, 'it wasn't really a penalty'. St Peter said to him, 'when was this?'. Cherry looked down at his watch and said 'about 35 seconds ago'.
Ron Cherry had just started his own company to provide Referee equipment. He'd rented a beautiful office and had it furnished with the most expensive office equipment that money could buy. Sitting there, he saw a man come into the outer office. Wishing to appear busy, the Referee picked up the phone and started to pretend he had a big order for Referee equipment to process. He threw huge figures around and made giant commitments. Finally he hung up and asked the visitor, "Can I help you?" The man said, "Sure. I've come to install the phone.
My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.