Monthly Archives: June 2007

General

Happy birthday, me…

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“I used to celebrate my birthday.  Now I just note its passing…”

Today is number 57.  Let’s do the ol’ “I remember” thing:

I remember “Howdy Doody” on TV. I remember TV stations playing the national anthem and signing off on Saturday night, then not coming back on until noon Sunday so people could go to church.

I remember when the launch of a rocket from Cape Canaveral was such a big deal that the schools wheeled TV sets into the classrooms so we could watch.

I was in the seventh grade during the Cuban missile crisis.  Adults knew that the Gulf coast industries were a prime target for Russian intermediate range missiles and my home town was a prime target.  We did the drills for “duck and Cover” in the school and parents and school officials discussed what would happen if war broke out.

I was in school the afternoon Kennedy was shot in 1963.

I was starting high school as the Viet Nam war escalated, and it became a big topic of conversation as brothers graduated and went into service.  Some didn’t come back.

I went into the  Army myself after high school.  I remember some things like the transition from REAL rifles (the M-14) to Mattel toys (the M-16), the change from the M-48 to the M-60 series tanks and all sorts of fun things.

I went into the electrical industry at a time when a sharp mind, a few hand tools and amultimeter could keep a powerhouse or a petrochemical plant running, when electricity hummed and instrumentation hissed, and all was right with the world.

I had cars where a Saturday afternoon under a shade tree, changing points, plugs and condenser went with every other oil change, but you could fix 99% of your problems like this.

It’s been a pretty decent bunch of years.  Dad made it to 77, so I figure with any kind of luck, I got another twenty to look at…

Wheels of Industry

Another 300-mile day

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I hit the road this morning at 0615 headed to Houston. One of my projects involves five million dollars worth of new 5,000 volt switchgear, and we have some issues with the way things are put together. My big problem is that I want it built so that in the future it can be easily maintained, and the standard layout is such that it would not be as convenient as I think it should be.

So I get to visit the factory where the stuff is built, along with one of the engineers from the company that is engineering the project. We looked at things, talked about issues, and worked out a proposed solution.

During the course of the day I managed to snap a few pictures. Here’s one that turns me on, being a power geek and all:

swgr1.jpg

Ain’t it purty?!?!

You’re looking at the back of the door for one of new transformer feeder circuit breakers. The big black box is the protective relay that looks at the electricity going into the transformer and the electricity leaving the transformer and compares them with the allowable values. If it sees something outside the allowable numbers, it trips circuit breakers before things get too far out of hand, like in fires and and explosions and stuff.

The little thingies all over the door are indicator lights, a plain ol’ clock-face meter, and test switches that give us access to all the circuits for testing and troubleshooting. There are also some control switches to allow the breaker to be opened and closed from the door, but nowadays, we don’t hardly do that due to safety considerations. Somewhere in the building there will be a control station that will allow us to operate the circuit breakers from a distance.

It looks formidable, all those wires, but it’s nothing more than dozens of simple circuits all stuck together in one place. The fact that it looks so formidable has made me a quite decent living for the last twenty years.

General, Pets

Cattage

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Bonnie and I sat down in the middle of the floor in the den to play a game of Trivial Pursuit, and Miss Kitty came over to supervise the procedure.

kitty4.jpg

I can not for the world of me fathom what drives a cat to fold herself into a little box, especially since the house is full of nice, comfortable places she could choose.

Anyway, just in case you were wondering how the new cat is working out…

General

50 years ago today…

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I was three days shy of being seven years old, and me, my mom, my two sisters and my brother were home waiting while Hurricane Audrey barreled through.  Dad was working his shift at one of the local refineries.  We weathered the storm in fine shape, although it was a long time before the lights came back on.

Forty miles to the south, in Cameron Parish, it was whole different story.  The storm caught the area almost by surprise due to the state of forecasting in 1957, and when the storm surge rolled in, twelve feet or more of the Gulf of Mexico onto land a mere four feet or so above sea level, the towns of Cameron, Holy Beach, Creole, and Grand Cheniere disappeared.  The inhabitants who survied tell stories about tying themselves into trees and riding floating debris, of family members ripped safety, never to be seen alive again.

In the weeks following, the numbers of the death toll climbed, and the exact number may never be known.  625 is figure that I’ve heard a lot, but Cameron Parish was oilfield workers, many of them transients, and if they weren’t found, and nobody came looking.

The magnitude of death was such that victims were buried in MASS GRAVES. In the United States.  In 1957.  No storm claimed as many lives since, until Katrina flooded New Orleans.

Me, as a seven-year-old, I rmember going to my great-grandmother’s house south of Lake Charles weeks after the storm.  Her house was built at its present location after this family of sturdy Cajun folk lost their first house in a hurricane in 1918, and this house had water several feet deep from Audrey’s surge.  They cleaned up and got on with life.

The adults took tractors out into the thousand acres of pasture and marsh and recovered dozens of small boats that were pushed up from points south of us, and for three years afterward, people would occasionally show up looking and claim their lost boats.

The whole affair made a lasting impression on me, and you cannot imagine the surreal feeling of deja vu 47 years later when I saw Hurricane Rita do the same thing.

Hurricane Audrey also forever changed the way we look at hurricanes down here on the coast.  Just about every native in Cameron Parish lost somebody in Audrey, and when the Weather Service says “evacuate”, they don’t mess around with “hurricane parties”.

That was fifty years ago.  And it’s worth remembering.

Blogging

It’s been a year…

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Since Rob passed on.

I still check in several times a week just to read his stuff.  Rob was force in this little world of bloggers:  funny, caustic, pensive, subject to mood swings that took his writings on a wild roller coaster ride.  Passing by there to read was like blindly pulling books off the shelf.  You never knew what it was that was going to open up in front of you.

We lost a great one when he went.  And he’s missed…

Current events - national, Politics

You gotta be kidding me!

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From NOLA Blogger (over there on the blogroll) come this article:

Nagin gives his team Shankar stress relief
By Richard A. Webster Staff Writer 2007-06-08 12:49 PM CSTNEW ORLEANS – When stress threatens, sometimes the best reaction is the simplest – take a deep breath.

That’s the mantra of the International Association of Human Values, which Mayor C. Ray Nagin invited to New Orleans shortly after Hurricane Katrina.

After the group’s founder, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, visited New Orleans in April, Nagin developed a working partnership with IAHV.

Just when you think that they can’t get any goofier in New Orleans under Ray Nagin, he goes and lifts the silliness an order of magnitude.

Reminds me of the lyrics of a Doctor Hook song:  “We got a gen-u-wine Indian guru, teachin’ us a better way.”

“We will begin to work closely with his holiness (Shankar) and his organizations to identify the specific set of needs for the New Orleans communities,� Nagin said. “For the past 19 months, our adults and youth have endured stress and overwhelming challenges associated with the rebuilding our great city and we are open to review the proposals of his holiness Shankar’s for the achievement of harmony, stress stress management and clarity of mind.�

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m all for anybody in New Orleans government achieveing any sort of breakthrough in “clarity of mind”.  But I’m thinking that “the specific set of needs for the New Orleans communities” likely includes something other than breathing exercises for the thieving New Orleans political class.

The New York-based nonprofit teaches a breathing technique designed to  “release stress from the mind and body.�

“This is completely transformational,� said Gabriella Savelli, an IAHV trauma relief specialist. “And it’s something usually people haven’t seen before because it’s not something we learn in the workplace or at school.�

Now, bunkie, exactly WHAT do you expect an emplyee of this assortment of moonbats to say?  “We’ve found a bunch of deep-pocketed suckers here in New Orleans and we’re gonna suck ever dollar we can out of them.”?

I’m flabbergasted, and that’s a state I find hard to achieve when considering the operations of government in New Orleans.

IAHV has conducted breathing seminars for City Hall employees, schools such as Ben Franklin High School and Xavier University and private companies such as Whitney National Bank and Whole Foods. They have also instructed inmates at inmates at Orleans Parish Prison.

New Orleans prison being the revolving door that it’s famous for being, I’m surprised the inmates have time for such instruction.

“Whole Foods”?  I’ve been to a Whole Foods store or two, and an Indian guru and his staff would fit right in with much of the Whole Foods clientele.

“Ben Franklin High School”?  If you know anything about New Orleans schools at all, you’d be very worried if they told you they were teaching kids how to breathe…

“The members of the justice system here in New Orleans said that if this will help people be a better person and stop the cycle of recidivism, they were willing to try it,� Savelli said.

Remember, though, that we’re talking about New Orleans here, and it’s also know for voodoo, too, so a little Eastern mysticism isn’t too much of a stretch, especially if it’s done with taxpayer dollars.

And this is the same New Orleans government that wants more Federal and state money because they don’t have enough cash for recovery efforts. I’m thinking that anyone closely associated with New Orleans politics is recovering quite nicely, especially if we can investigate financial records…

Humor

LEARN TO PAY ATTENTION!!!

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First-year students at Texas A&M’s Vet School were receiving their first anatomy class, with a real dead cow. They all gathered around the surgery table with the body covered with a white sheet.

The professor started the class by telling them, “In Vet Medicine it is necessary to have two important qualities as a doctor: The first is that you not be disgusted by anything involving the animal body. For an example, the Professor pulled back the sheet, stuck his finger in the butt of the dead cow, withdrew it and stuck it in his mouth. “Go ahead and do the same thing,” he told his students. The students freaked out, hesitated for several minutes. But eventually took turns sticking a finger in the anal opening of the dead cow and sucking on it.

When everyone finished, the Professor looked at them and said, “The second most important quality is observation. I stuck in my middle finger and sucked on my index finger. Now learn to pay attention.”

“Life’s tough, it’s even tougher if you’re stupid.” – John Wayne

Wheels of Industry

Mouse trap

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WARNING:  The following post includes graphic discussion fo the demise of one of Mother Gaia’s furry creatures.  If such verbiage is likely to cause you distress, stop reading NOW!

Back a few years ago I was the shift electrician for a whopping big chemical plant.  As such, I was there with representatives of other maintenance crafts at different times of the night:  shift work.  We had our own lunchroom where we met to start and end the shift, and if we wished, to take breaks and eat lunch.  It was a room in a 1940’s vintage building,as as such buildings are likely to do, it had acquired a small rodent problem.

One night when we came in for our mid-shift lunch break, one of my co-workers found that his sandwich bag had been gnawed through, apparently by a mouse.  We started looking around and found what appeared to be a mouse hole behind the water heater in the utility closet.

“I’m  gonna bring some mousetraps,” he said.  “I’ll get that little b**tard!”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, “I can set something up tonight.  We might get lucky.”  I had a plan.

Sitting on the shelf in the cabinet where I stashed some spare parts was an ignition transformer.   “What’s that?” you say.  Well, let me tell you:  WE ahd a lot of things in that plant that had burners, and the way those burners were lit was with some sort of electrical sparking device.  These devices took several thousand volts to make a spark, and that voltage came from an ignition transformer, a black metal boz about the size of a half a loaf of bread, with a big ceramic insulator on one end.

These are fun things to play with.  You hook up a plug and cord to the input side and put 120 volts out of a wall plug into it, and all of a sudden there’s anywhere from 5,000 to 15,000 volts on the terminal in the middle of that big ceramic insulator.  I’d used the one I had to build a very impressive “Jacob’s Ladder” for electrical safety demonstrations.  It was good for 10,000 volts.
I saw in it the makings of a somewhat high-tech mouse trap.  Twenty minutes later, the transformer was sitting in the corner of the closet with a power cord leading to an outlet near the lunch table.  There was a high voltage conductor made from a brass brazing rod extending from the high voltage terminal to just at one side of the alleged mouse hole, and on the other side was a similar rod tied to a waterpipe ground.  I was set.

Since I feared that an unattended ‘hit’ on a mouse might involve a fire hazard, I left the thing unplugged until the next break when I could be there to watch it.

Break time came and the five of us all showed up, talking loud and eating snacks.  I reached down and plugged the power cord in.  One of the guys noticed.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Setting the mouse trap,” I said.  “It’s in the closet.”

“Will we know if it works?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “there should be some indications.”

I sipped my Coke and we talked a couple of minutes when the normal sounds were punctuated by a bery substantial SNAP! and the sound of an electric arc.  I pulled the plug.

“Let’s see if we got one,” I said, and opened the closet door.  Opening the door released a very obvious smell of burnt hair.  And in between those two electrodes was a very dead mouse, victim of  a 10,000 volt shot through his furry little body.  As I retrieved the victim, the conversation turned to what a cruel SOB I was.  I countered with the fact that 10 kV was likely mor ehumane that having a steel wire snap down over some part of your body, the usual mechanism by which mousetraps work.

However, the negative comments hurt my rather sensitive feelings and I picked up my trap and returned the major parts to my parts cabinet.

But the “proof of concept” trial was successful…

The Name Game

The Name Game #103

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Waking up this fine Sunday morning, I walked outside to seventy-five degrees at eight in the morning. that’s summer in southwest Louisiana.

The Sunday newspaper lists seventy-three births from two different hospitals from May 18 through June 13. Of that number, 34 were to unwed couples and six of the new mommies haven’t decided who to tag as the baby daddy. Now, you folks know me. I’m a sensitive guy, and so I’m not saying that these new kids are ALL gonna end up getting government checks, but I’d call it a safe bet…

Let’s take off this fine morning with some triples: folks who had reason to give their new baby three given names:

Miss Deitra D. has a new daughter, little D’Mya Shantel Lynn. She doesn’t have a name for a a baby daddy.

Miss Darnell S. has a new daughter, too, little D’Syriah Nevaeh Chanti. Now, folks, how old do you think this little darlin’ is gonna be before she can spell her whole name?

Mr. & Mrs. Johnny D. have a new son and they tagged him with Tucker Zaine Miller. Cool, huh? I can see “mullet” in his future…

While on the subject of spelling, it is common among the cloudy thinking that an innovative spelling of a common name adds class. We have some of those:

Daniel C. & Kari Y. have a son, and they give him a boost up the social ladder by naming him Collyne Daniel. I’m guessing that’s their idea of a way to show a little class with a common name like “Colin”.

Mr. & Mrs. Marcus L. have a new daughter. They had a really cool-sounding name picked out, but they didn’t want to name their new daughter “-son”, so we now have Addisyn Claire. The “y” makes a lot more sense that way…

Next we have that cloud of folks who just want to find some syllables that sound good and throw them together and call it a name:

MarkKeith D. Sr. & his squeeze Betsy H. birthed a new son, little MarKeith Wendell Jr.

Dominick S & Roshunda G. popped out a baby girl and tagged her with RoNaysha Domineik. Notice that the daddy’s name is different from the middle name of the baby girl’s. These people are laying new ground in the area of gender-specific spelling.

On June 10, Miss Velvet T. dropped a daughter, little Nyla Brenae. On the 13th, Carlos J. and Ebony B. had their own daughter, and named her Nyla Lavon. Somebody apparently heisted a load of “Lion King” movies and gave them away…

Naomi J. has a new daughter too, little Nevaeh Ranae. Momma “nevaeh” learned to spell “Renee” apparently…

On June 5, Mr. & Mrs. Antonio B. had a new daughter, little Kennedi Michelle. On the 7th, Mr. & Mrs. Christopher C. had a new daughter, little Kennedy Alaina. Good thing that they didn’t spell the same name identically two times, or there’d be confusion…

LaKeisha P. presents her new daughter, little Jamiaya Nicole. She doesn’t seem to remember the daddy’s name…

Mr. & Mrs. Kenneth S. show us their new baby girl, little Kayonni Amari.

Lastly we come to my personal favorites, those fine folk who just know that carefully placed punctuation can give a child an extra boost in life:

Terri H. & Brian D. have a new daughter, little Tamoy Ta’Sha.

Tevera C. & Nathaniel R. have a new son, little Devonte’ Larniel.

Folks, some weeks there’s just no name that really jumps out at me with sufficient presence to be called the “Name of the Week.” this isn’t one of those weeks. Please allow me to present to you Miss TyShon H. & her main squeeze Terrance W. Together they’ve brought forth a son. Let us now meet Zsatyrance X’yza-Markel.

There! Now you have something to be impressed with ALL week!

Humor

Tag line fodder

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Does your email signature look lackluster? Are you not being noticed? Do your correspondents fail to take you seriously?

All these things can be attributed to an inadequate tagline in your automatic signature file.

In many cases this can be remedied by that careful attachment of a phrase in Latin. Yes, Latin is a dead language dredged up only by law students, candidates for priesthood, and language geeks educated past their intelligence, but most of the world doesn’t know that, and when they see a Latin phrase in your signature block they’ll automatically assume that you’re possessed of a highly desirable classical education and are therefore worthy of their consideration.

Me being the prince of a person that I am, I have gone out and located a list of REAL Latin phrases that can not only portray your as a truly educated person of substance and impact, but at the same time one of THESE phrases can actually portray a small bit of your thought processes.

Peruse the listing below. Feel free to claim them as your own. And if you find yourself rocketing up the ranks of the winners of life’s lottery because you used one of these taglines, I’d appreciate a note, especially if the note was paper clipped to a check of substantial amount.

Non calor sed umor est qui nobis incommodat.
It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.

Di! Ecce hora! Uxor mea me necabit!
God, look at the time! My wife will kill me!

Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?
Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?

Lex clavatoris designati rescindenda est.
The designated hitter rule has got to go.

Sentio aliquos togatos contra me conspirare.
I think some people in togas are plotting against me.

Caesar si viveret, ad remum dareris.
If Caesar were alive, you’d be chained to an oar.

Quantum materiae materietur marmota monax si marmota monax materiam possit materiari?
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

(At a barbeque)
Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes, fumum recta in faciem ferri?
Ever noticed how wherever you stand, the smoke goes right into your face?

Sona si Latine loqueris.
Honk if you speak Latin.

Si Hoc Legere Scis Nimium Eruditionis Habes
If you can read this you’re over-educated

Sentio aliquos togatos contra me conspirare.
I think some people in togas are plotting against me.

Vidi Vici Veni
I saw, I conquered, I came

Vacca foeda
Stupid cow

Mihi ignosce. Cum homine de cane debeo congredi.
Excuse me. I’ve got to see a man about a dog.

Raptus regaliter
Royally screwed

Si hoc signum legere potes, operis boni in rebus Latinus alacribus et fructuosis potiri potes!
If you can read this sign, you can get a good job in the fast-paced, high-paying world of Latin!

Gramen artificiosum odi.
I hate Astroturf.

Nihil curo de ista tua stulta superstitione.
I’m not interested in your dopey religious cult.

Noli me vocare, ego te vocabo.
Don’t call me, I’ll call you.

Nullo metro compositum est.
It doesn’t rhyme.

Non curo. Si metrum non habet, non est poema.
I don’t care. If it doesn’t rhyme, it isn’t a poem.

Fac ut gaudeam.
Make my day.

Braccae illae virides cum subucula rosea et tunica Caledonia-quam elenganter concinnatur!
Those green pants go so well with that pink shirt and the plaid jacket!

Visne saltare? Viam Latam Fungosam scio.
Do you want to dance? I know the Funky Broadway.

Re vera, potas bene.
Say, you sure are drinking a lot.

Utinam barbari spatium proprium tuum invadant!
May barbarians invade your personal space!

Utinam coniurati te in foro interficiant!
May conspirators assassinate you in the mall!

Utinam logica falsa tuam philosophiam totam suffodiant!
May faulty logic undermine your entire philosophy!

Radix lecti
Couch potato

Quo signo nata es?
What’s your sign?

O! Plus! Perge! Aio! Hui! Hem!
Oh! More! Go on! Yes! Ooh! Ummm!

Mellita, domi adsum.
Honey, I’m home.

Tam exanimis quam tunica nehru fio.
I am as dead as the nehru jacket.

Ventis secundis, tene cursum.
Go with the flow.

Totum dependeat.
Let it all hang out.

Te precor dulcissime supplex!
Pretty please with a cherry on top!

Magister Mundi sum!
I am the Master of the Universe!

Fac me cocleario vomere!
Gag me with a spoon!

Te audire no possum. Musa sapientum fixa est in aure.
I can’t hear you. I have a banana in my ear.

Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?
Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?

Prehende uxorem meam, sis!
Take my wife, please!

Quantum materiae materietur marmota monax si marmota monax materiam possit materiari?
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Nihil est–in vita priore ego imperator Romanus fui.
That’s nothing–in a previous life I was a Roman Emperor.

Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem!
Stand aside plebians! I am on imperial business.

Vescere bracis meis.
Eat my shorts.

Sic faciunt omnes.
Everyone is doing it.

Fac ut vivas.
Get a life.

Anulos qui animum ostendunt omnes gestemus!
Let’s all wear mood rings!

Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam.
I have a catapult. Give me all the money, or I will fling an enormous rock at your head.

Humor

I could DO this job…

Tech Support for Etch-A-Sketch(tm)

Q: My Etch-A-Sketch has a distorted display. What should I do?
A: Pick it up and shake it.

Q: My Etch-A-Sketch has these funny little lines all over the screen.
A: Pick it up and shake it.

Q: How do I turn my Etch-A-Sketch off?
A: Pick it up and shake it. Set it down.

Q: My Etch-A-Sketch has lines that prevent me from doing my art project.
A: Pick it up and shake it.

Q: How do I delete a document from my Etch-A-Sketch?
A: Pick it up and shake it.

Q: How do I keep from losing my Etch-A-Sketch document?
A: Stop shaking it.

Current events - national, Politics

14%

1 Comment

In case you’ve had your head buried in the sand or you’ve been wondering around the outback with no means of communication with the outside world for the last couple of weeks, that number is significant in that it represents the approval rating that our present Congress receives in polls of the American people.

This surprises me not  in the least bit.  Recent actions of the Senate on the question of “immigration reform” have run astoundingly counter to the wishes of the American voter, and in this case, the electorate is surprisingly bipartisan.  Both dimmocrats AND republicans out here in the sticks are opposed to whatever it is that the Senate and President Bush are trying to railroad through Congress and into law.

The actions of many in the Senate belie a sense of imperial attitude that shows me that they figure that they can do ANYTHING THEY WANT and we’re supposed to bow and acknowledge thankfully that this august body cares enough about us to do our thinking for us.

The House of Representatives, led by Nancy “Hanky” Pelosi, has decided that it should appropriate for itself the powers normally left to the executive branch, trying to micro-manage the war and taking hugely disturbing stances on domestic security and the prosecution of international terrorists.  That’s not to even mention that they sit in their insulated compounds and figure that degrees in law give them the wisdom to rule on areas of science and engineering and economics, pushing for laws regulating energy production, “global warming” issues, and taxes “on big business” and “the rich”.

The only bright spot in the whole thing is that they’re all so busy posturing and whoring for the media and for any special interest group they can find that they ahve little time to actually pass legislation.  In this case, Congress NOT doing anything is a big plus, because I know that if they did do anything, it’d be wrong…

Congress:  It has indeed become the opposite of “progress”.

Humor

The Dinner Club

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A group of country neighbors wanted to get together on a regular basis and socialize. As a result, about 10 couples formed a dinner club and agreed to meet for dinner at a different neighbors’ house each month.

Of course, the lady of the house was to prepare the meal. When it came time for Jimmy and Susie Brown to have the dinner at their house, like most women, Susie wanted to outdo all the others and prepare a meal that was the best that any of them had ever lapped a lip over.

A few days before the big event, Susie got out her cookbook and decided to have mushroom smothered steak. When she went to the store to buy some mushrooms, she found the price for a small can was more than she wanted to pay. She then told her husband, “We aren’t going to have mushrooms because they are too expensive.” He said, “Why don’t you go down in the pasture and pick some of those mushrooms? There are plenty of them right in the creek bed.”

She said, “No, I don’t want to do that, because I have heard that wild mushrooms are poison.” He then said, “I don’t think so. I see the varmints eating them all the time and it never has affected them.”

After thinking about this, Susie decided to give this a try and got in the pickup and went down in the pasture and picked some. She brought the wild mushrooms back home and washed them, sliced and diced them to get them ready to go over her smothered steak. Then she went out on the back porch and got Ol’ Spot’s (the yard dog) bowl and gave him a double handful. She even put some bacon grease on them to make them tasty. Ol’ Spot didn’t slow down until he had eaten every bite. All morning long, Susie watched him and the wild mushrooms didn’t seem to affect him, so she decided to use them.

The meal was a great success, and Susie even hired a lady from town to come out and help her serve. She had on a white apron and a little cap on her head. It was first class. After everyone had finished, they all began to kick back and relax and socialize. The men were visiting and the women started to gossip a bit.

About this time, the lady from town came in from the kitchen and whispered in Susie’s ear. She said, “Mrs. Brown, Spot just died.”

With this news, Susie went into hysterics. After she finally calmed down, she called the doctor and told him what had happened.

The doctor said, “It’s bad, but I think we can take care of it. I will call for an ambulance and I will be there as quick as I can get there. We’ll give everyone enemas and we will pump out everyone’s stomach. Everything will be fine. Just keep them all there and keep them calm.”

It wasn’t long until they could hear the wail of the siren as the ambulance was coming down the road. When they got there, the EMTs got out with their suitcases, syringes, and a stomach pump. The doctor arrived shortly thereafter. One by one, they took each person into the master bathroom, gave them an enema and pumped out their stomach.

After the last one was finished, the doctor came out and said, “I think everything will be fine now”, and he left.

They were all looking pretty peaked sitting around the living room, and about that time, the town lady came in and said, “You know, that fellow that ran over Ol’ Spot never even stopped!!”

(This bit of merriment was sent to me by my MUCH older sister…)