Hatchet v. Saw - A Local Story

The other day was a windy and delightful day, one befitting of the end of February, and lending proof that March, does indeed, come in like a lion, though it is also said it goes out like a lamb. Time will tell on the latter. At any rate, being a windy and delightful day, as it was, I decided to give my kites a test, only to discover that they both had broken spars which I had not replaced since I last flew them with my grandaughters, Aliyah and Trinity. So off to Lowes I went, in search of some 5/16" dowel rods, preferably 48" long and made of oak.

Having secured the necessary timbers, I headed back out to the car, the trunk of which plays host to my kites, an inflatable 4 man raft, some ropes, cables, tools, machetes, survey equipment, and a varied assortment of other things. Opening the trunk I took the kites out and began to measure the spans necessary to make the required repairs.

After carefully determining the amount of wood to be eliminated by using my thumb as a ruler (this is, after all, an exact science) I was about to make the necessary adjustments by simply "snapping" the dowels between my foot and the pavement. I was squatting behind my car at the time, trunk open, all of the aforementioned bric a brac plainly in sight, when I heard a voice with a distinctly southern drawl saying, "If you wasn't a Yankee, you'd have a saw with you!"

I looked up at the slack jawed one, our eyes locking, and without hesitation reached into the trunk as I replied, "Well, up North we use hatchets", and lopped off the required amount of dowel, burying the hatchet in the asphalt for emphasis. And then, as I pulled the hatchet free, I said, "Yep, that's how we do it in Brooklyn." But it was too late for the slack jawed one to hear me - he'd already gone.

A Sunday Sermon - "The Bishop's Ass"

I thought I’d skip the usual Sunday post this week in exchange for an old joke and an even older lesson. Humor can convey the most important of the things we learn in life. All you have to do is listen, and maybe laugh a bit at yourself. The illustration above is by Norman Rockwell and is titled "Walking to Church." It was done in 1953.

A pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and it won again. The local newspaper read:

“PASTOR'S ASS OUT FRONT”

The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race. The next day, the local newspaper headline read:

“BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR'S ASS”

This was too much for the bishop so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey. The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent. The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day:

“NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN”

The bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10. The next day the paper read:

“NUN SELLS HER ASS FOR $10”

This was too much for the bishop. So, he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild. The next day the headlines read:

“NUN ANNOUNCES -  ASS IS WILD AND FREE”

The bishop was buried the next day. And, the moral of the story is; being concerned about public opinion can bring you much grief and misery, and even shorten your life.

So be yourself and enjoy life. Only worry about your own ass, not someone else's. You'll be a lot happier and live longer.

"The Old Mill Pond" - MGM (1936)

This cartoon is from MGM’s “Merrie Melodies” series, and preceded last week’s post of “Swing Wedding.” This was one of the first cartoon’s which MGM produced. Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising had great success with this cartoon, which won an Oscar for Best Animation in 1937. The basic premise is the fish and frogs gathering at the old mill pond to hear a jazz concert. The performers, as in last week’s cartoon, are all caricatures of some of the best known jazz, and blues, performers of the era.

Most noticeable here are the performances by the Cab Calloway character, as well as Fats Waller and Bill “Bojangles” Robinson.

As with last week’s cartoon, I will apologize in advance for any offense which this cartoon may cause. I did not have any hate mail, or negative comments, on the “Swing Wedding” post. Again, as with that one, I invite anyone with a negative opinion to either use the comments section below to express your disapproval, or just e-mail me directly. I will post your opinion if you so desire. Meantime, sit back and enjoy this for what it is; a celebration of some of the greatest music ever made.

Private Parts in Public Places

This is a delicate subject, one which has sparked debate between various co-workers and I over the years past. I say “past” as I no longer have co-workers; being retired; but the subject of this particular debate applies in the private sector as well. I’m talking about washing your hands when using the bathroom. Don’t take me wrong; I am a firm believer in washing your hands; and mine as well; whenever either of us use the “facilities.” My point of contention is whether, or not, this said washing of the hands should take place before, or after, using the bathroom.

I look at it in this way; when I go to use the bathroom my hands have been all over God’s creation; touching things in stores, shaking hands with people; you name it, they’ve been doing it. And, while they have been so active, they have probably picked up a few germs along the way. So, that is why I wash my hands before I use the “facilities”, as opposed to after.

Think about it; while my hands have been involved in all the aforementioned activities, my private parts have been safely ensconced in a clean pair of underwear, right where I put them after taking a shower. So, in my mind, washing my hands before makes perfect sense. I wouldn’t want to inadvertently place public germs in my most private of places.

Would you believe that I have observed men who simply walk into a rest room; right after working on their car, or digging a ditch; just unzip and spray away? Only then, after sullying their “best friend” in such a manner, do they wash their hands. I have often wondered what was on their clean “private part” that needed to be scrubbed away with so much vigor before they go back to digging the ditch.

Realistically, I do like that there are signs for restaurant employees which instruct them to wash their hands before going back to the kitchen.  That seems to make sense. I mean, when you come right down to it,  your meat should never touch my meat;  in any way, at any time. Besides, I know where my meat’s been, but I haven’t got a clue about yours.

So, in summation, I think it would be best to wash both before and after. Take this missive in whatever light you prefer; mild satire, silliness, plain ribaldry, or just the ramblings of someone with nothing to say today. Either way, I’m glad to have finally gotten this off of my chest.