Heh, maybe Amos was what Rons aspire to be, but (amusingly) fail at. 
Well, based on your story - seems like Amos is kind of the middle step - because he got caught, at least in the infidelity . . .
True and it would appear to be a repeating pattern.
I guess the real goal would be to bullshit everyone and get away with it - a sort of Flashman like character.
Yup.
My ex-mother-in-law was definitely a Ron-duh. Her ex-husband, Jay-Ron (of the Craftsman Club story upthread) claimed, among other things, to be a doctor. An M.D. A pathologist, to be exact.
He said that he wasn’t practicing any more because he had gotten into a related chemical business. And he did, indeed, have a company that made things like dyes for microscope slides.
But it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t, and had never been, a doctor. He had zero knowledge of basic medical stuff. It wasn’t that his knowledge was outdated because he wasn’t “practicing” any more. He didn’t even know stuff like simple human anatomy.
We did a little digging, and couldn’t confirm that he had a medical license. We did find all sorts of other people who we knew were M.D.s but had stopped practicing because of retirement or other reasons, so we knew we were in the right place. We didn’t go any further in our research because we really had no reason to. He wasn’t practicing medicine without a license, and to be fair, he didn’t try to give specific medical advice to people. He was just claiming to be a doctor.
We also didn’t tell my mother-in-law that we were pretty certain that he was no M.D. because we knew that if she hadn’t figured out yet that something was amiss in Jay-Ron’s doctor story, it was because she didn’t want to know. We’d already seen her rationalize other things. And we’d spent plenty of time watching her with a perfect Ron-duh expression on her face while Jay-Ron went on and on and on about stuff that was obviously total baloney.
Fast forward 6 or 7 years when she was divorcing him. She called up my then-husband and said “You’re NOT going to believe what I just found out! Jay isn’t really a doctor!!” Jeff handled it better than I would have. He said something like “Oh, really? Wow. How did you find out?” I probably would have said that we already knew that.
And for what it’s worth, Jay-Ron did have a moustache. It wasn’t a porn-stache, though. The guy bore an unfortunate resemblance to Saddam Hussein.
Oh, so close. The word we are looking for, Jay-Ron is “pathological” not “pathologist.” Nice try.
I think I will make all my future Ronulian recountings use a -Ron reference for their first name. Jay-Ron, Tom-Ron, Jen-Ron (haha). It’s such an immediate identifier.
And when I meet these people, I’m going to ask them if there middle name is Ron to my own personal amusement.
I think one of my aunts would definitely classify as a Ron-duh. She married her first husband, who we’ll call Jay, (who was also her third and her fourth husband) when he was straight out of reform school, and divorced him when he’d get sent back to prison – not that he did any serious crime, he was just a drunk who’d get in trouble over his head. Her second husband, who we’ll call Bud, was at least a non-criminal, but he never worked at all and I think he was probably abusive as well, so she had to work extra shifts at the plastics factory to support her kids. The whole family was horrified when she married Jay for the third time – and took care of him till he died (of alcoholism, needless to say). And then, even crazier, she remarried Bud (making a total of 3 marriages with Jay, 2 with Bud – I call it her “full house”) and took care of him till he died. At least his behavior was better, even if he still lived off her. :rolleyes:
Jay was the kind of guy who talked my uncle, who was in bad shape as a result of severe PTSD from WWII, into doing an attempted (but, of course, failed) armed robbery with him; my uncle ended up prison for six years as a result. :rolleyes:
And through all of that, my aunt just has never understood why the whole family thinks her manpicker is broke beyond all repair!
Tell your aunt she’ll be getting her Ron-duh certificate in the mail.
Why, thank you. Although I think, for the sake of family peace, I should probably gratefully accept on her behalf.
So, if the collective of Ron is a brag of Rons, then the collective of Ron-duh is, what? A trailer park?
That’s likely an insult to trailer park residents everywhere.
Well, Ron-duhs are only people who put up with it, so maybe a wimp of Ron-duhs?
We also need a name for female Rons and for male Ron-duhs. Maybe the terms are gender neutral, though…
I’m thinking a “a gosh” of Ron-duhs. It fit’s my image of someone sitting on the edge of their seat, gleefully lapping up every word of idiocy that emits from their associated Ron.
Maybe “a gullibility” of Ron-duhs.
As in “raccoons”, a gaze of Ron-duhs.
As in “magpies” or “goldfinches”, a charm of Ron-duhs.
As in “I just made this up”, a gush of Ron-duhs.
A nag of Ron-duhs.
Oddly enough, most female Rons I have known were all named Krystal.
- can’t recall were I read it online, but my favorite invented collective noun is for a group of assholes: a pucker of assholes. Love it.
an oblivion of Ron-duhs?
Today’s Ron story:
Ron and my sister eventually wore out their welcome at Lola’s place. Well, and Lola was about to get evicted too - because she decided to stop paying rent on her section 8 housing.
So Ron found a place over an hour from where he worked, and moved my sister out there. Now, my sister had no car or means of transportation other than the bus system, and knew no one other then my dad & stepmom, who lived in the next town over and both travelled a lot.
But Ron felt it was a great place for them because “they saved lots of money.”
Soon after moving out there, Ron realized that the commute for him to go to work was just too long, so he began staying in town with friends each week, leaving my sister in this new place all by herself. She didn’t have a phone because they couldn’t afford to put one in. Ron did give my sister a beeper, however, so he could beep her and she could walk to a pay phone and call him on a calling card.
He didn’t have a beeper, so she had no one of contacting him, except at BK if he happened to be working then. And my sister kept “misunderstanding his schedule” because often times she would call and he wouldn’t be scheduled to work like she thought.
My sister found a job working at a grocery store bakery, that required her to be there by 4:00 AM every morning. The buses didn’t run that early, so she would leave her house shortly after 3 AM and walk there.
When I paged her one day she called me back and told me all about her job and walking to work. I asked her if she felt frightened, and she said not since she’d gotten to know a few people she saw on her route every day.
People at 3:30 AM?
“Newspaper men?” I asked.
“No - just a few girls who work at a club downtown and are usually getting home around that time - and some of their boyfriends.”
I asked her for her street address and made arrangements to come visit her that weekend. I went to her dumpy little place - barely the size of a closet and she shared a bathroom with others on the hall.
“Why are you staying here?” I demanded. “What does Ron have to say about all this?”
“Ron says it’s fine - the cops patrol this place all the time - and he likes being able to take care of me.”
“The cops patrol this place all the time?” I asked. “Ron calls this taking care of you?!?”
“Oh yes,” says my sister. “This is a very popular neighborhood. Why, it was just on the news the other day as the city’s #1 street!”
I looked up the news story she referred to. The street was in fact #1 in the city . . . for drug-trafficking and prostitution.
PS - is it okay for “daily” to be “week-daily”? I’m seldome around the computer on the weekends - as its the time Dewey and I get to go be offensive.
Monday-Friday will be fine. The stories will last longer.
And your sister is skidding into Ron territory herself. Was she always that clueless, or did Ron suck the brains from her head?
Her common sense level was always dependent on the company she was keeping at the time.
Unfortunately, she is no longer with us. But telling her Roncapades (which she herself laughed at later) is one way I keep her memory alive and with humor.