Aw, shucks. I was hopin’ to break out my twin .50 calibers. Puts really big holes in wingnuttia bs.

Many, many years ago when I was 23,
I was married to a widow who was pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown up daughter who had hair of red,
My father fell in love with her, and soon they too were wed.

This made my dad my son-in-law and really changed my life,
Now my daughter was my mother, for she was my father’s wife.
And to complicate the matter, even though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.

My little baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
Which made him my uncle, and it really made me sad,
For if he were my uncle, then that also made him brother,
Of the widow’s grown up daughter who was, of course, my step-mother.

My father’s wife then had a son who kept him on the run,
And he became my grandchild for he was my daughter’s son.
My wife is now my mother’s mother, and it makes me blue,
Because although she is my wife, she’s my grandmother too.

Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I’m her grandchild,
And everytime I think of it, it really drives me wild.
Because I have become the strangest case you ever saw;
As husband to my grandmother, I am my own grampa.

-Oh-

I’m my own grampa! I’m my own grampa!
It seems funny I know, but it really is so!
I’m my own grampa!

Here’s a video for the song.

Enjoy!

Bob in HI

But the math did work out!

There was a guy posting comments at the IndyStar.com site, calling himself “Richard Crainium” (sic)

Do the math…