What a Piece of Shit

I always wanted to meet Tim's goofball uncle. Uncle Bill retired to the shores of Lake Tomahawk in Northern Wisconsin. There he stewed as an inventor and radio astonomer, fueled by healthy doses of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I would finally get to meet Uncle Bill at Tim's wedding after 10 years of anticipation. I introduced myself and we nursed a highball and made small talk; he already had quite a few.

Knowing he was a radio astronomer I thought I'd mention a common interest in stargazing. I said, "Uncle Bill, I heard you're an amateur astronomer... me too... I have a 10-inch Dobsonian scope with fantastic optics."

He looked at me, pondered, and rather sternly announced with a slurring flourish--
"WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT!"

I was blown away. Here I waited a decade to meet him just so he could tell me that I was an idiot.