Eskewpades

  From Funny Bones to Phony Bones By Steve Eskew Albeit once upon a time he could barely stand the sight of me, my ex-father-in-law materialized into one of my all-time best buds. I’ve always called him Big Bruno; his nickname for me has always been “Funny Bones.” Our unlikely bonding resulted from the sudden abject poverty that befell us both when we became divorcees within three days of each other. (I’ll save the slapsticky details for subsequent columns.) Following Bruno’s divorce from my ex-wife’s syrupy sweet mother, plus my own divorce from Bruno’s enchantingly delightful daughter, the two of us found ourselves deliriously downsizing in the same noxious neighborhood.   Fate had flopped us into this, this twilight zone of an environment by the same person — this, this malicious, man-eating female judge. Obviously, a bonafide misandrist, she reigned as infamous for shouting a pathetic parting shot to all her male victims — “Get out of my courtroom, you — you phony!”   That prompted