Out of the Mouths of Babes

   
     Kids do put things so neatly:

     The baby sitter told her little charge to go to sleep because it was late.
     "I can't", was his reply, "My mouth is still full of words."

     A neighbor tyke's mother was taking him to school on opening day. When she asked him how he felt about finally going to school.
     "My stomach tickles on the inside," he told her.

     At the school one little girl was also asked how she felt about her first day at school.
     "I feel in a hurry all over, but I can't get started," she replied.

     Grandma, meeting her four year old grand daughter who had just flown alone for the first time, asked how the girl liked the flight.
     The girl allowed it was pretty wonderful, especially when God talked to her.
     "God talked to you?" asked surprised grandma. "What did he say?"
     "He said, 'Fasten your seat belts.'

     The eight-year old, after getting cleaned up to go to a birthday party, was admonished by her mother not to soil her dress while waiting to go. So she went around the house chanting, "Keep your dress clean. Keep your dress clean. This is a recording."

     The family tattle-tale ran to mom to report, "Mom, Robert used a bad word! And it wasn't a children's bad word, it was a GROWN-UP'S bad word!"

     The nine-year old son of a family visiting Los Angeles for the first time noticed all the spectacular advertising signs lining the thoroughfare they were on. "Look at all the bull boards," he said.

     One young man, discussing the Christmas season with his playmate, offered this advice, "A good thing to remember about standing under the 'kisseltoe' is don't...or you'll have to watch out for slobbery girls."

Endings with Smiles

     I think everyone likes a joke that surprises him/her, like these.

     Two Martians landed on a corner in front of a traffic light. "I saw her first," one Martian says.
     "So what?" argues the other Martian. "I'm the one she winked at."  - Sandy Hartman in Globe

     Marvin, the nature lover, spied a grasshopper dining on a clump of grass and, in a mood for communing with nature, he spoke to the grasshopper. "Hello, friend grasshopper. Did you know they've named a drink after you?"
     "No kidding!" the grasshopper replies. "They've named a drink Fred?" - Anon.

     First farmer: "How'd Charlie Black lose the fingers on his right hand?"
     Neighbor: "Put 'em in a horse's mouth to see how many teeth it had."
     FF: "Well, what happened?"
     N: "The horse closed its mouth to see how many fingers Charlie had."  - Anon.

     A man went shopping for a used car at one of those enormous sales lots. A super-salesman there decided that the very car he needed was a 2000 model "in perfect condition, driven only a few thousand miles by an elderly woman"...an absolute steal at $1200.
     The customer took this prize out for a trial run and, after circling a few blocks, drove back into the lot. Another salesman dashed to his side. "Wanta sell that car?" he asked before the dazed customer could explain, and he proceeded to make a quick check of it, reporting, "Engine needs work, interior needs cleaning, body's not in very good shape -- give you $876 for it."
     The customer looked at the salesman, slapped the keys into the salesman's hand and said, "Aw, if that's all it's worth, I'll GIVE it to you!" And he walked away, feeling fine. - AP

   

   

The Nonpareil Wordsmith

   I was looking up an exact quotation by Shakespeare recently. The piece involved was on the increasing opulence bestowed on job titles, sometimes to obfuscate the true character of a job, sometimes to upgrade an ego without having to add cash recompense, and sometimes to modernize a sexist title, like "male" nurse.
     The quote I was searching for turned out to be from "Romeo and Juliet":
          "What's in a name? That which we call a rose
           By any other name would smell as sweet."
     It is almost always misquoted or at least paraphrased. But it was a fitting lead-in to the story I planned.
     However, as I searched through John Bartlett's famed Familiar Quotations, I also browsed. And it struck me again - the first time having been when I took a Shakespeare 101 class in 1943 - how modern Shakespeare remains, at least in his use of the language. He was so expert at innovating pithy slang expressions that a great number, through continued usage over the decades, have become English majors' cliches today.
     In his day not everyone was a fan of his. Voltaire expressed the French sentiment of his time when he declared that Shakespeare had genius "full of force and fecundity, of naturalness and sublimity, without the slightest spark of good taste, and without the least acquaintanceship with rules." And that is true, of course.
     Nevertheless, Shakespeare's literary outflow has been so studied that it has even been taken apart word by word for analyzation. In 1974, for instance, the Harvard University Press issued a 1,600-page tome, titled The Harvard Concordance to Shakespeare, wherein each of the 884,647 words in the works of Shakespeare were entered and the context of every one of them given. (Exceptions were the 43 most common words, like "the", used 27,457 times, and ending with "now", used 3,002 times.)
     More than 500,000 quotations illustrate the 29,066 different words used. And each is identified as to source, - play, act, scene and verse, or poem - with the number of times it appears in verse and in prose also noted. I'm not sure who or how many people paid the $40 cost for this wild compilation, but it has served trivia assemblers well.

Samples

     I won't belabor the point, but my bet is that every reader will have used one or another of his quotes at one time or another, probably not even realizing he or she was quoting long-hair prose from the bard of Brittany. Check the following partial list to determine how great a plagiarizer you have been.
   One of the most used has probably been "Love is blind!" It comes from "Midsummer Night's Dream", but the actual quote is:
          "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
           And thereafter is winged cupid painted blind."
     Others?
"The course of true love never did run smooth." - Also from "Midsummer Night's Dream".
"All the world's a stage And all the men and women merely players..." - from "As You Like It".
Misery attracts strange bedfellows. - Actually stated "Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows", from   "Tempest".
"Why, then the world's my oyster..." - from "Merry Wives of Windsor".
Smooth water runs deep. - Actually stated  "Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep" from "King Henry IV".
"Something in the wind" - from "Comedy of Errors".
"True is it that we have seen bettter days" - from "As You Like It".
"Not so hot" - from "A Winter's Tale".
"The naked truth" - from "Love's Labour's Lost".
"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning" - from "Measure for Measure".
"The evil that men do lives after them..." - from "Julius Caesar".
     Still others of his works have each furnished several examples of his rapier wit. In "king Richard III", for example, we find: "How is the winter of our discontent..." and  "A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!" And in "King Henry IV" there are three prime examples: "He will give the Devil his due...", "The better part of valor is - discretion." and "He hath eaten me out of house and home."
     Found in "The Merchant of Venice" is "It is a wise father that knows his own child", "All that glitters is not gold", and "The quality of mercy is not strained."
     The champs incorporating the bard's wordsmithing, however, are "Othello" and "Hamlet". The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Red Letter Edition, once tallied his most quoted plays and found Hamlet" led with 79 famous passages, including: "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark", "...each particular hair to stand on end...", "Though this be madness, yet there's a method in it", "To be, or not to be? That is the question...", "Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all", and "The lady doth protest too much, methinks".
     From "Othello" we got: "But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve...", "...of hair-breadth escapes..., "Who steals my purse, steals trash...", and "It is the green-eyed monster...".
     Finally, Shakespeare also offers a great line for the columnist to hang his close on: "I'll tell the world" (from "Measure for Measure").

Biblical Parody

 
     A Kamiah, Idaho lady named Flora Teachman shares this Biblical parody, stating that her father, Clarence Hunt, penned it in 1984 at age 90.

     The government is my shepherd, therefor I need not work.
     It alloweth me to lie down on a good job.
     It leadeth me beside still factories. It destroyeth my initiative.
     It leadeth me in the path of a parasite for poitic's sake.
     Yes, though I walk through the valley of laziness and deficit spending, I will fear no evil for the government is with me.
     It prepareth an economic Utopia for me, by appropriating the earning of my grandchildren.
     It filleth my head with false security. My inefficiency runneth over.
     Surely the government should care for me all the days of my life!
     And I shall dwell in a fool's paradise. Forever.

 (Apologies for my month-long absence. At age 90 one is bound to have health blips on occasion, and so it was with me...a little hospital care to settle down a racing heart and lower the blood pressure. Now I'm back and feeling great again.)

The Unexpected Juxtaposition of Incongruities

     The "unexpected juxtaposition of incongruities" is a definition I like for "humor". I first read it, of all places, unexpectedly in a novel titled "The Marathon Man" by William Goldman.
     Here's a little story I read some years ago in a nice little column, titled "Words, Wit and Wisdom" penned by William Morris, that illustrates that "deftnition". It wasn't intended to be funny, but see if it doesn't fit admirably.
     An Air Force major was talking about a publication bearing the title "Normal and Reverse English Word List" that was the result of an Air Force research project (for what purpose I can't imagine) and it resulted in eight giant volumes encompassing 354,252 English words taken from a variety of dictionaries, spelled in alphabetical order, then carefully spelled backwards, also in alphabetical sequence. This monstrous job was undertaken by computer, of course.
    But the most engaging aspect of the entire work was this notation in the preface: "For reasons best known to the computer there are two more words in the reverse list."
     In other words, the computer created two backward-spelled words...and no one knew what they were!
    That unexpected juxtaposition of incongruities deftnition also fits more mundane "surprise ending" stories, except they are usually intended to be funny at their ends. Examples are a lot easier to find, or even to foment, as I found out some years ago from a writing class where I issued an assignment to "write a short, short story with a surprise ending". This ultimately resulted in a small-press-published book titled "Script Tease - The Treasury of Surprise Endings" that class members autographed and sold to all their families and friends, while basking in the limelight for their 15 minutes of fame.
     I love this type ingenuity, so I keep a folder for collecting them. So, here, years after that little book cause its little stir, I offer you more "script teases".

     And here are a couple for the "adult" readers:
     A guy walks into a bar, sits down, takes a little guy out of his left pocket and places him on the bar. The he reaches into another pocket and removes a small piano and stool and puts them on the bar. The little guy walks over and begins to beat out some of the greatest blues the patrons had ever heard.
     The barkeep asks where in the world he got the little musician.
     Believe it or not, I found an old bottle on the beach, pulled the cork out of it and out popped a really old genie. He gave me two wishes, but, after seeing this, I wasn't anxious to use the second one.
     "What'll you take for it then?" asks the intrigued barkeep.
     So they made a deal and the barkeep used the passed-on second wish. Almost immediately the entire bar was filled with ducks, roosting even on patrons' heads. "You and your damned old genie," the barkeep shouted. "I think he's deaf. I asked for a thousand bucks, not ducks!"
     The gift-seller gathered up his little man and piano to go, then turned to the barkeep and asked, "Do you really think I asked for a 12-inch pianist?"
 
     An American, touring Spain, wanted to try the local cuisine. While sipping an aperitif, he noted the sizzling, great smelling, scrumptious-appearing platter being served at the next table. When the waiter asked his order, he said, "I think I'd  like the same thing you just served at the next table."
     "Ah, senor, you have excellent taste. Those are the bull's testicles from the bull fight this morning, a real delicacy."
     Momentarily daunted, the American watched the neighbor wolfing down his order with evident pleasure, and said, "What the hell! When in Spain...go ahead and bring me an order."
     "But I am so sorry, senor. Since there is only one bull fight per morning, there can be only one special serving per day. But, if you come early tomorrow, l will put a save on the order-of-the-day for you."
     Next day the American entered the restaurant in expectation and was served his promised specialty. After a few bites he motioned for the waiter. "These are much smaller than those I saw you serve yesterday," he complained.
     "Si, senor," the waiter replied with a sad face. "Sometimes the bull wins."

   
   
   
   

Plagiarism and Other Copywrongs

    On the copyright page of Jan Adkins' book Toolchest was placed this statement:
     "We have gone to considerable difficulty and expense to assemble a staff of necromancers,. sorcerers, shamans, conjurers and lawyers to visit nettlesome and mystifying discomforts on any ninny who endeavors to reproduce or transmit this book in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission from the publisher. Watch yourself."

     When a New York publishing house brought out a volume of blank pages called The Nothing Book, the publisher was accused of plagiarism by the Belgian publisher of a blank-paged book that had been creatively titled The Memoirs of an Amnesiac.
     The American firm rejected the claim, contending that blankness was in the public domain, therefor not subject to copyright restrictions.     --UPI

     The Rev. William Wallace, a Dominican priest and former researcher at Catholic University who for 15 years studied the manuscripts of Galileo Galilei, the 16th century scientist whose work has been called the foundation of all modern science, found that all three of Galileo's most important notebooks show "considerable evidence of copying, or at least of being based on other sources....Practically all of this material...derives from textbooks and lecture notes that were being used at the Collegio Romano, a Roman university Galileo visited."
     "Today people would call this plagiarism," Wallace noted. "But at that time everyone did it. People then felt that ideas, once shown to be right, were automatically the property of everyone. People were flattered to have their class notes used by other instructors. "I'm not saying Galileo was not the 'father' of modern science, just that there was a 'grandfather' too."           --Washington Post

        In 1991 a committee at Boston University - where Martin Luther King, Jr. received his doctoral degree from the Division of Theological Studies - concluded that he had plagiarized the writings of others in his 1955 dissertation.
     This followed the 1990 findings by Clayborne Carson, Stanford history professor chosen by Dr. King's widow to head the king Papers Project, that other academic papers by the  late Nobel Peace Prize winner contained numerous passages that "can be defined as plagiarism".
     His conclusion was supported by Keith D. Miller, Assistant Professor of English at Arizona State University, who added that King's tendency to plagiarize should be understood in the context of his background on the pulpit, where "preachers borrow partly because their culture fails to define the word as a commodity and instead assumes that everyone creates language and no one owns it."
     All the scholars involved stressed that their findings did not diminish King's accomplishments.
                                                                                     -- Parade 8/94
   
     Writer's Digest has also offered four interesting copywrongs:

     Alvin B. Harrison's short story titled :The Perlu", which ran in the June 1935 issue of Esquire Magazine, was exposed by alert readers as a plagiarism of Ambrose Bierce's "The Damned Thing"...which, in turn, was revealed as a rip-off of Guy de Maupassant's "The Horla".

     Impersonators of writers Edna Ferber and Octavus Roy Cohen once appeared together on the same lecture program - neither aware that the other was an impostor.

     Lloyd Lewis, age 15, entered a 1936 essay-writing contest sponsored by performer Eddie Cantor and carried off he $5,000 prize. He had copied, word for word - and in professed innocence - an article by the president of the University of Newark, entitled "How Can We Stay Out of War?" from an issue of Peace Digest.

     Dr. John Hedley Barnhart, a bibliographer at the New York Botanical Gardens in 1919, found that 14 scientists profiled in the most recent Appleton's Cyclopaedia of American Biography were fictitious, although their bios had been reprinted continuously since 1886.
     Embarrassed Appleton execs vowed to set their house in order. But by 1936 an additional 70 counterfeit biographies were exposed.














   

Laughter Translates Into Any Language

     It's true that laughter translates into any language. Even from Russian, where life for the most part is no joke, as shown from the following.

     An elderly woman enters the Kremlin and insists on seeing the General Secretary. Mikhail Gorbachev agrees to meet her, and asks, "What can I do for you?"
     "I have one question that's been bothering me," she answers. "Was Communism invented by a politician or a scientist?"
     "A politician," he answers candidly.
     "That explains it," she continues testily. "A scientist would have tried it on mice first!"
                                   --from Grinning With the Gipper: A Celebration of the Wit, Wisdom and                                                   Wisecracks of Ronald Reagan, by James S. Denton and Peter                                                                     Schweitzer, Atlantic Monthly Press

     The newspaper Sovetskaya Kultura published a letter from a dispirited Odessa film director complaining about all the privileges available to foreign tourists and to Russians who use foreign currency, while ordinary Soviet citizens who lack foreign money, are refused service at many places along the Black Sea coast. He recalled a brief conversation with a Russian child from the area:
     "Vovochka, what do you want to be when you grow up?" he had asked.
     "A foreigner!" she had replied.
                                      --New York Times, July 22, 1987

     When Stalin was on his deathbed, he called in Khrushchev and said, "I've prepared two letters. When you find yourself in difficulty over your economic policies, open the first one. When you are in real trouble and your life is in danger, open the second one. Nikita didn't understand this strange advice, but he   accepted the two letters Stalin handed him.
     Later, when an economic crisis seemed imminent, Nikita opened the first letter. It stated, "Blame everything on me!" Nikita immediately saw the benefit of this advice and  promptly unmasked Stalin as a murderer and a despot. He weathered the crisis nicely.
     In 1964, when a real showdown came in another Kremlin power struggle, Nikita opened the second letter. It was even more brief, stating, "Prepare two letters."
                                        --Matt Weinstock, Los Angeles Times

     Some of the funniest stuff was immigrated with comedian Yakov Smirnoff, who has made it big time in the USA by telling it like it was when he was back home in Russia before the century changed.

     Two citizens were talking about the merit of Communism. One asked, "If you had two houses, would you give me one?"
     "Of course," the other answered. "You are my fellow Communist."
     "What if you had two automobiles? Would you give me one?"
     "Sure, you're my fellow Communist."
     "How about if you had two chickens?" probed the first citizen, getting down to the meat of the questioning.
     "No!"
     "Why not?"
     " Because I HAVE two chickens!"

     How do you improve the value of a coin from a Communist country?
     You bore four holes in it and sell it as a button.

     A citizen went into a Russian auto dealership, bought a car, and was told to come back in ten years to pick it up.
     "Morning or afternoon?" the buyer asks.
     "What difference does that make?" asks the dealer.
     "The plumbers will be coming on that morning," reports the buyer.

     President Clinton and Russian leader Yeltsin were standing on a cliff overlooking Moscow, each doing a little bragging, when the question of whose secret service staff was more loyal came up. Clinton, always the joker, turned to one of his agents and says, "Why don't you jump off this cliff for me?"
     The agent pragmatically replies, "Can't do that, sir. I have a wife and three kids."
     Yeltsin, with a winner's grin, turns to one of his agents and says, "Jump!" And the agent leaps off the cliff.
     The American agent, aghast, runs down and helps the badly bruised Russian agent up. "Why did you jump?" he asks.
     "Because I too have a wife and three children!"

     In English, a holiday is the word used to describe going some place different to have fun and get away from all one's trials and tribulations.
     In Russia, that's known as defecting.

     What's the definition of a quartet? A Communist symphony orchestra after a tour outside the Iron Curtain.












   

   
   

My Favorite Little Stories With Surprise Endngs

     I love stories that are concise, where the teller is so good he/she gets the whole story told in few words. That shows either great skill or great editing and both should be revered in this age where neither is much practiced in day-to-day give and take. These are some of the favorites I've been told.

Law & Ardor

     My grandad on my dad's side kept a long-running dispute with a neighboring farmer. He finally decided to get a lawyer to determine the legal aspects of the controversy. After he presented a heavily one-sided version of the dispute to the lawyer, that worthy assured him that the case would be cut-and-dried.
     "When do you want to start legal proceedings?" asked the lawyer.
     "Never," answered grandad disgustedly. "I just gave you HIS side of the story!"

Prayer Conditioned

     Grandad bought a beautiful Palomino pony that had belonged to an itinerant preacher man, one of those who traveled between parishes. The seller told him that the preacher had trained his horse a bit differently, calling "Good Lord" for giddyup and "Amen" for whoa. Grandad smiled at the humor in this, saying that that would make interesting conversation starters.
      "Let me give him a little trial run," he said, mounting up. "Good Lord," he said and the horse responded so quickly he nearly lost his seat. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed in surprise, and the horse went into a gallop. But up ahead grandad saw a ravine across their path, and the horse seemed to be expecting to jump it. But grandad wasn't a jumper and he started yelling,  "Whoa, whoa!"
     Just in time he remembered the magic word. "Amen!" he yelled, and the horse skidded to a stop, right on the edge of the deep cleft. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed in relief.

My Time Is Your Time

     At 6 a.m. every morning, on the way to work, the owner of a large lumber mill in town stopped at the jewelry store in town, pressed his face and hands to the storefront window to see the large clock inside, so he could set his watch to have the correct time to blow the mill whistle for shift changes. He didn't realize this left unsightly smudges on the window. 

     The jeweler, who fastidiously cleaned his window every day, wondered for months who was smudging it. He finally decided to stay in the store overnight and catch the culprit. 

     Next morning he saw the mill owner's face pressed up against his window, and he ran out to confront him. "For months I've been cleaning your face smudges off my window. Why the heck are you doing that?"

     "Well," the mill owner replied, "I've been setting my watch by your clock so I can blow the mill whistle at the correct times."

     "My God, man," exclaimed the jeweler, "I've been setting that clock by your mill whistle!"

Cause for Alarm

     The bank examiner paid a surprise visit to investigate a report that officers of the small-town bank spent most of the day playing cards. Peeking in a window, he caught the executives in the act, so he set off the burglar alarm, intending to give them a scare.

     But not one of them so much as blinked an eye. Instead, a few minutes later a bartender from the saloon across the street came running over with four pitchers of beer.

Turnabout

     Young Dan Andersen and old Rolf Petterson owned small grocery stores in the same block. They had had a price war over eggs going on for some time, which depended on the supply available from local ranchers. First Dan would cut his price, then Rolf would follow, and on and on. These cut rates affected Dan's profit line enough that he finally went to the older man in despair, saying, "I surrender. We've been selling eggs at a loss for too long...."

     But, before he could finish his lament, old Rolf grinned and replied, "Not me!You see, I've been buying my eggs from you."

Flight Plan

     The passenger plane had just been cleared for landing and the Captain went on the intercom requesting passengers remain in their seats with seat belts fastened until the plane stoppped and the seat belt sign went on. But, as soon as the plane touched down, passengers swarmed the middle aisle reaching for overhead luggage racks. Again came the captain's request. And, again, it was ignored.

     The captain then commanded, "Please clear the aisle so I can see to back up."

     There was immediate compliance!

                                                                    --Reprinted from Reader's Digest, courtesy Esther T. Smith

Shaggy Dog Tale

     A big flea jumped over the swinging doors of a saloon, sampled three patrons' whiskeys, then jumped back out again. He landed smack on his face in the middle of the street. "Damn!" he said, slowly picking himself up. "Someone moved my dog!"

                                                                       --Paul B. Lowney, "Offbeat Humor", Peter Pauper Press

Alibi

     A Hollywood producer was driving home after a celebratory evening on the town. Within a few  miles of home two California Highway Patrolmen stopped him. He was trying to walk a straight line when another car crashed into a turnoff railing behind them. The patrolmen told the producer to wait there and they ran toward the wreck.

     The producer, however, saw his chance to escape and drove on home, shut the car in the garage, ran unsteadily into the house and told his wife, if any police came, to tell them he was in bed and had been home all night.
     When police did arrive, she dutifully told their little lie.

     "We'd like to see his car, if you don't mind," said a trooper.

     "It's in the garage," she replied.

     "Open it, please," the trooper insisted. So she did. And there, inside the garage, was their police car!

The Cardinal Rule

     A man decided to become a monk, joining an order where silence was the cardinal rule. He would be allowed to say two words once every decade. 

     After the first ten years the head monk called him in. "Do you have anything you want to say on your ten-year anniversary?" he asked.

     "Food's cold," reported the novice tersely, and he turned and walked out.

     Another ten-year anniversary arrived and the monk this time told the head monk, "Bed's hard" and he walked out frowning.

     Still another decade had passed and the monk reported in to the head monk. "I quit," he said this time.

     The head monk, looked at him with annoyance. "I'm not surprised. You've been complaining ever since you got here."

                                                                                 --Paul E. Snow in Reader's Digest   

From the Mouth of a Babe

     A little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in a sweet lisp, "Excuthe me, mithter, do you have wittle wabbits?"

     The friendly shopkeeper asks in child-speak, "Would you like a wittle white wabbit or a fuwwy bwack one?"

     The little girl regards him for a moment then replies, "I weally don't fink my python giveth a thit."

                                                                                            --Courtesy Annet Mahendru

   

2014 Ig-Nobel Winners

     As I remember, it was some years ago I came across the Ig-Nobel Awards. At that time they were a rather localized bit of humor thought up by staffers of the University of Washington Columns humor magazine. Recently I noted it has a new home, Harvard University's Annals of Improbable Research Magazine, with real Nobel laureates handing out annual prizes and the Associated Press hyping the winners.
     Winning projects this year were:

Three Japanese physicists tested whether banana peels are really as slippery as cartoons would have us believe.

A Canadian professor and five colleagues' study "Seeing Jesus In Toast" led them to trying to understand what happens to the brains of people who see human faces in pieces of toast.

Three psychologists attempted to find out if people who habitually stayed up and arose late tended to be more self-admiring, more manipulative and more psychopathic than people who habitually arose early.

Six public health figures investigated whether it is mentally hazardous to own a cat.

A dozen biologists carefully documented the fact that dogs  align themselves with earth's magnetic field when defecating.

Three artists measured the relative pain people suffer when looking at an ugly painting, versus looking at a pretty painting, while a laser beam is aimed at their hand.

A Michigan doctor and three colleagues tried treating "uncontrollable" nosebleed with strips of cured pork stuffed into the nasal cavities of a child.

Two Norwegian biologists tested whether reindeer were frightened by humans dressed to resemble polar bears.

Four nutritionists studied using infant fecal bacteria as potential probiotic starter cultures for fermented sausages.

(For extended coverage see Associated Press, Sept. 19, 2014.)













   

Who Writes Your Stuff, Rev? - Part 2

     Churchmen have found a little humor goes a long way in reminding their parishioners about their duties to their church, as was seen in part 1. This is a continuation.

     St. Andrew's Episcopal Church of Oceanside, NY, tried a soft sell variation advertisement in its parish bulletin: "Hold the square at the right (a blank printed square) to your face and blow on it. If it turns green, call your physician. If it turns brown, see your dentist. If it turns purple, see your psychiatrist. If it turns red, see your banker. If it turns black, call your lawyer and make a will. If it remains the same color, you are in good health, and there is no reason on earth why you should not be in church next Sunday morning.
     Even after getting parishioners into the church pastors still have a problem outlined in the following two messages, handled slightly differently: 1) "Come early and get a back seat" stated one. 2) "Notice! We are giving up these back pews for Lent. For the Lord's sake, please sit up front," stated the other on a rope blocking off 13 rear pews.
     Clergymen, being charitable in nature by calling, have been known to share especially productive messages, like St. John's Lutheran of El Cajon, CA, and the Firestone Assembly of God Church in Southgate, CA, which both used when green stamps were in vogue: "Redemption center--No stamps necessary."
     On occasion messages have been shared with other denominations and creeds. A sign on a St. Louis church bulletin board, for example, read: "Merry Christmas to our Christian friends. Happy Hanukkah to our
Jewish friends. And to our Atheist friends--Good luck!"
     Sometimes it is difficult to determine who is who and what, like in the Armed Forces. There everyone has patches and insignias and chevrons identifying everyone relatively completely, because dress is so standardized that it works against stand-out recognition of individual units of religion. Thus the chaplains at Phu Cat air base in South Vietnam, during the war, came up with a unique method of identification. In bold white letters on the side of their jeeps they printed "The God Squad".
     Shortages in personnel happened to God's squads stateside occasionally, too. For a while several states were reporting a desperate need for priests. Things got so bad in Florida, in fact, a billboard was mounted at a busy intersection pleading: "White collar workers needed!"
     A weather report, or a very hot weather warning, whichever way the reader wanted to take it, was posted by the First Assembly of God Church in El Paso, TX. It read: "You think it's hot HERE!..." And, in similar vein, the Rev. Paul Jewert of the Emory Methodist Church of Jersey City, NJ, during a record-shattering heat wave in that city, posted: "Now that you know how hot Hell is, what are you going to do about it?"
     The answering quip for that one came from Perrysville, KY, where one church advertised: "Our auditorium is prayer conditioned!" Another church, under repair, kept its sermon short and to the point: "Renovating going on inside. How about you?"

Who Writes Your Stuff, Rev?

     A person's religion, ordinarily, is no joking matter, but most pastors and other holy men are really pixies at heart, if we can judge from the following "signs" of religion posted at churches throughout the country. The churchman's philosophy, in fact, might be summed up in a short verse found on the wall of the Chester Cathedral in England:

"Give me some humor, Lord.

Give me the grace to see a joke,

To get some happiness in life,

And pass it on to other folk."

     For illustration, take some of the signs posted by the pastor of the North Hollywood Christian Church. "Come in and get your faith lifted," stated one. "Are you praying more and enjoying it less?" asked another. Life is fragile; handle with prayer," admonished another.

     In Oklahoma City was seen: "When in doubt, faith it!" In New York: Please come in and do an about faith." In Greendale, WI: "First come, first saved." 

     Tongue-in-cheek postings at other churches gently reminded parishioners of attendance lapses: "Visitors welcomed. Members expected" was the way a Clayton, IN, church did it. "Trespassers welcome" was the Bethany Lutheran of Ocean Bay way. And a Dolton, IL, one sported a large color-lighted sign one summer reading simply: "His Place". And, finally, a church bulletin board in Grand Rapids, MI, relayed the message: "We are open between Easter and Christmas," which, we suspect, meant much the same thing.

     Seasonal specials have fronted a Buffalo, NY, church: "Stop here for your holiday spirits" and later: "All new sermons - No summer reruns!"

     Occasionally pastors find more public platforms from which to get their messages across. For example, many newspaper columnists have found odd signs make good copy. One classic exchange happened when a Washington, DC Post writer mentioned that that year was blessed with three Fridays the 13th. A clergyman, upon reading this, immediately telephoned to remind him that there were also 53 Sundays that year.

     Some clergymen prefer to take a more direct line, like: "Try one of our Sundays" , fronting a Clarkston, WA, tabernacle, or "The competition is terrific, but we're still open on Sundays" in front of a Nebraska church, or "We reserve the right to accept everybody" on the bulletin board of a New Jersey church.

     Reverend John Lindsay of the Community Baptist Church of Medford, MA, was one of this more practical group too. In large type on his outdoor bulletin board he pleaded, "Wanted. Pew fillers. Apply Sunday 10:30 a.m." And attendance duly increased, so it evidently is true that it pays to advertise. Even if the ad is obfuscated a bit, like this one in the bulletin of a St. Louis, MO, church: "The acoustical properties of our sanctuary have been analyzed by our audio engineers and found to be needing more persons in the pews to absorb the reflected sound waves." Same message. Just took longer to say it.

     

Dating in the Silvertop Social Set, Part 3 (final)

     Some personals adders seem to be looking for cheap household help. For example: "Need live-in chauffeur, good cook & housekeeper, good dancer, age 45-65, for companionship". Sounds a bit altruistic, doesn't it?
     Most searchers, however, don't require anything out of the ordinary. Loneliness, as well as love, is a great beautifier. However, finding a trial companion is only the opening gambit. Orchestrating an actual date that will showcase both participants takes some ingenuity and thought. And, oh yeah, ground rules are needed, like who pays - the man, both share, take turns, the one who's better fixed financially, or the one who set up the date? This definitely should be set up beforehand. It may be a little embarrassing, but not as much as it could be later.
     A Kansas man, back in the single scene after many years of marriage, said he had heard much about women's lib, but he was getting mixed messages. "When I invite a lady out, I expect to pay," he reported. "So, when a lady invites a gentleman out, shouldn't she pay?"
     "When a woman invites me out I am complimented," reports another gent, "but I'm confused when I end up paying for the evening. Some of these women own their own businesses or have a profession where they can well afford to pick up the tab. One woman invited me out to dinner at a very nice restaurant but, when the check came, she said she didn't have any money. On another occasion, after the bill had been presented, the woman said, since she had invited me out, we should split the bill."
     A similar complaint came from a 69-year-old divorced gentleman dating a 65-year-old widow. "Our relationship is good except for one thing," he said. "Whenever we go anywhere we have to go in my pickup truck, although she has a very nice late model auto. And, whenever we go out to eat or to a movie, I always pick up the tab, even though she told me her husband had left her 'very comfortable'. She dresses well and lives in a beautiful condo, which she paid cash for."
     Another ground rule to get established quickly involves conduct, the conduct expected on both sides.
     A Dear Abby submission asked, "Will you please tell me why most men think that, just because a woman is a widow, she is sex starved and ready to jump into bed with the first man who asks her? The minute they get me alone they have six hands. They say, 'All women like to be fondled and petted'. Why don't they realize that two people should get acquainted and, if they enjoy each other's company, perhaps in time sparks will fly? If not, back off. Why spoil a good friendship?"
     Comic Helen Rowland had one answer: "Somehow a bachelor never quite gets over the idea that he is a thing of beauty and a boy forever".
     Rap a bit with seniors who are in the dating game and you get some interesting stories. One widow got 17 answers to her personals ad in a small town paper. One wrote back simply, "Give me a call". No information was given on himself at all. Another answer was someone she knew "and he lied like a rug about himself".
     "One evidently just wanted someone to listen to his problems. He talked for two hours straight. Another respondent was on a kidney dialysis machine and, I'd had three years of that, thank you, with my husband before he died."
     One of the several she actually dated met her at a cowboy bar outside of town, without telling her what sort of place it was so she could have dressed accordingly. He wore his black sombrero the entire evening, never even taking it off when he met her, plus cowboy boots and dirty jeans. He appeared at least 10 years older than he had said, and he swilled beer like it was going out of style all evening, adding more pendula to the beer belly already overhanging his belt.

Vice Versa

     On the other hand, one male told me he had sat and listened for four hours to a widow talk about her paragon of a dead husband while she drank cup after cup of coffee and smoked cigarettes non-stop. "I couldn't get the subject changed no matter what I tried," he complained. "She had fixed a great dinner, but it wasn't worth that type of prisoner payback," he added.
     He had visited another lady, in her home in another city, and they hit it off right away, well enough for him to invite her to visit him. But she showed up with a half-gallon of bourbon as her main luggage. It turned out she was well on her way to becoming an alcoholic, which she had been able to hide from him at her place. He didn't drink, however, so she knew she wouldn't have a stash at his place to tipple from.
     He went to spend a day and evening with another widow and the first thing she insisted they do was to visit her workplace, even though it was her day off. Turned out she wanted to parade him around like a 'prize poodle', evidently to show her co-workers she could still snag a man. Then she wanted them to stay for lunch with co-workers in the company cafeteria.
     Another ad answerer found an English matron with a 20-year-old son, both of whom where looking for American mates so they could stay in the United States. "Here we had just met," he stated, "but both of them got angry and abusive, yelling that I was trying to play games with them, when I tried to sidestep marriage talk.
     Another dating deterrent story involved the friend of the person who told me. He showed up on my friend's doorstep one day unexpectedly. "Today's my wedding day!" was his greeting, accompanied by a long face.
     "Where's your bride?" asked my friend.
     "In Arizona," was the rejoinder. "In two months that we've been together that woman gave me more hell than my wife ever did in 20 years. So I came back home."

     Love by Degrees

      In such situations an idea forwarded by one-time columnist L.M.'Boyd might be practical. "Single status," he stated, "should be recognized by degrees. You get your Bachelor of Singles degree four years after you have lived alone, supporting yourself. You can only sign up for Marriage Elementary if you have your Bachelors. Two years of that and you can get into Marriage Advanced to try to earn your Master of Matrimony degree. Seven years total are needed to gain your Doctor of Domesticity."  I suppose Associate Degrees might be awarded those who only cohabit.

     The person who wants to get into senior dating should use their friends for all they're worth. The more eyes you have looking out for you, the better your chances of finding the golden grail. Maybe among them will be a friend like the following.

      This friend took his wife and recently widowed sister-in-law to a baseball game. As they got comfortable in their reserved seats, another gentleman and his young son entered and sat beside them. The first gent, who knew the second, introduced them to the ladies. The newcomer, as it turned out, was a widower and, as luck would dictate, he was seated next to the widow. And, during the course of the game, they began paying more attention to each other than to the game. Six months later they were making wedding plans. And, about then, the widow learned her brother-in-law had reserved all five seats and made sure the widow and widower were seated next to each other.

     Blind dates don't usually work out that well. Blind dates, in fact, are a quick way to find out how little your friends and relatives really know about your likes and dislikes. 

     The hardest thing in life may be learning which bridges like this to cross and which to burn. But, one shouldn't give up because, if one waits, all that is going to happen is that one gets older. When you are six or seven today is forever and tomorrow is never. But, when you are 60 or 70, tomorrow is yesterday before you even know it was today!

       

talk.
is a widow, she is sex starved and ready to jump into bed with ;the first man who askes

Dating in the Silvertop Social Set, Part 2

     You may have seen the ads for computer-geared dating services which have sprung up like dandelions, with even AARP getting in on the matchmaking. These "services" have found, in the past few years, that there is a viable market in senior matchmaking, so the trend has exploded.
     In little McCall, Idaho, for example, there is even a monthly newsletter especially for "outdoor singles" aged 19 to 90. In Lewiston, Idaho, near where I live, there is Dotty's Friendship Club for ages 18 to 80 (free photos taken), as well as a Christian Singles organization and a New-90s Singles group. The 18-to-80 and 19-to-90 limits seem a stretch of age overlap to me, with very different generations with not much in common and very different ideas about life and living. And I doubt it is set up that way to foster May-December type romances.
     If you haven't read any personals columns, which have made their way from the trash mags to the general daily newspapers, and even a couple magazines (which formerly wouldn't print them), you have missed some imaginative and sometimes creative writing. Suffice it to say, most of us see ourselves in a much better light than others might, so we may tend to tell our profiles like we would like them to be.
     The original reason for regular newspapers not printing personals, I understand from my research, goes back to the turn of the century when Bells Poulsdatter Sorensen Gunns (nee Grunt) of LaPorte, IN, reportedly killed 16 (known) victims who had answered her lovelorn ads in the Personals Column. Now, however, such columns are needed additional advertising revenue and few newspapers can afford to turn that down anymore, no matter how it is packaged.
     Personal ads may often be facetiously called "desperation dating", but the fact is they often work! I talked with several people who had submitted such ads, and read a lot more of them, to see how people package themselves. Ads ran the gamut.
     Some people were looking for perfection: "STOP. This could be your opportunity. DWF (ad shorthand for "Divorced White Female") looking for gentleman 45-60 who is kind, humorous, thoughtful, neat, adventurous...looking for permanent situation." or "Mature black female, considered attractive, great personality, talented, honest, kind, sincere, faithful, monogamous, self-employed, likes the better things in life. Would like to meet a gentleman 60-69 with same qualities, plus neat, healthy, intelligent,wears great looking shoes".
     Others haven't been so particular: "Wanted--alive and active, a gentle man, non-smoker, for happy, loving lady of 50 with sense of humor. Shining armor and white horse optional". Or "One is the loneliest number there ever is. If you are a lonely lady 65-95 please call this lonely old man, which has slowed considerably with arthritis. We can be telephone friends, maybe more".  Or "Attention gentle man, 45-55, who is alive. Baby bird soon to fly nest; happy, fun-loving mom with sense of humor looking for non-smoker who likes outdoors, traveling, movies, cooking, country music".
     Some use wry humor to catch attention: NICE PEOPLE DON'T RUN PERSONAL ADS, I thought. Why not? I'll take a chance if you will.". Or "Hi. Are you out there? Can't find you!...Please find me". Or "Hey, Grandma, why don't you call a grandpa and maybe we could break the lonely cycle, exchange experiences, a few laughs".
     Some are pretty pragmatic: "Bachelor, mid-50s, retired, basically mild-mannered stay-at-home type, non-smoker and drinker, not much on sports, 20 pounds overweight, likes the simple things, work around the home, cards, dinner and some travel. Sound boring, huh? Looking for a lady about the same age with mild, pleasant, positive attitude, that's interested in the above for hopefully a permanent relationship".
     Some just like to travel, not alone: "Retired 55-year-old looking for tull time RV traveler. I'm seeking a good looking lady to travel with, who doesn't smoke or drink, and will share expenses".
     (To be continued.)
   

Dating in the Silvertop Social Set: Part 1

     Sigmund Freud once listed "work" as one of two necessities of mankind. And the other was "love".
     Now, sooner or later, we all become senior citizens and, eventually, silvertop singles, almost automatically making both those statuses problems. Since we do retire from jobs, however, "love" gets the most attention.
     Then, having enjoyed love once, we may want to know how many times we can fall in love. Statisticians claim they can verify averages of the past dozen years with some accuracy. I must admit I wondered what "average" would mean in the area of romance. Nevertheless, they reported, at least for the American female, 4.8 times to be typical (average). This also left me wondering how you may be .8 times in love. But to continue.
     If it is the wife who outlives the husband, his death does not seem to affect her longevity, according to another report. But, if the reverse is true, the death of the wife does considerably shorten the further life of the widower...unless he remarries right away. This seems something to keep in mind by both sexes of the silvertop social set should they remain a second time in the matrimonial marketplace.
     Another study, funded by AARP at the Ohio State-Newark campus has shown us that the popular idea of the "grieving widow" is not universally true.  Women over 50, who have been widowed an average of 12 years, are as satisfied and optimistic about their lives as married women in the same age groups, it showed. "Older widows (no mention was made of older divorcees) are survivors," stated Sara Staats, the PhD. who authored the study. "They've adjusted to their changed lives and know they can get along. This in spite of lower incomes and less education than the married women (in the study group of 61 widows and 9 married women aged 50 through 91).
     The oldest widows in the group - those over 65 - were also the busiest, it was discovered. They seemingly had developed social networks that compensated for the loss of their husbands to a more or lesser degree. "If you expect the worst,  you're opening the door to it," stated one lady. "Open the door to the best instead and prepare for that!"
     Much the same was once stated by French author Andre Maurois: Growing old is no more than a bad habit which a busy person has no time to form."
     Not everyone has the same opportunities, of course. At one time widows often ran boarding houses because it was about the only way they had of making their own living then. The advantage in this was that they could live under the same roof with several men at a time, legally and without gossip, and if they found one they could put up with they could marry again. This was rather like comedian Milton Berle once commented, "If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door."
     A Dear Abby letter once reiterated this social search idea also, but in a different way. It was from a man.He asked about these women who complain that they can't find a man. "What do they expect us men to do, read their minds? How are we supposed to know which women want us to approach them and which ones don't want to be bothered?"
     "Some women complain because they can't  go into a bar and have a drink without some man bothering them. How are gentlemen supposed to tell these women apart? It used to be that women who didn't wish to be bothered wore wedding rings. But that doesn't work any more. Single women often wear wedding rings and some married women take theirs off.
     "These women who complain probably pass by men every day who are unattached and would be right for them. But the more decent a man is, theless likely he is to approach a woman he doesn't know.Too bad women no longer drop handkerchiefs. Both men and women need a non-verbal way to break the ice.
     Abbys answer was pure common sense. "There is a way. It's been around a very long time. It's called a smile."
     Where does one go to try out that smile? Everywhere: bars, church activities, adult education classes,  bowling, the supermarket or laundromat, self-service restaurants, card parties, company picnics, dance classes or square dance organizations, AARP safe driving classes, senior centers, school reunions! All good possibilities. Just try to remember you aren't going to meet a winner every time out. And there are drawbacks.
     For example, I've discovered there is no such thing as a "visit" to a church. They want you for life. Go bowling and you may actually be expected to knock down pins. At senior centers the talk is often limited to detailed one-uppings of aches, pains and operations. A laundromat? Who wants to date someone who can't afford a washer-dryer? And at school reunions people are usually having more fun remembering what they did that what they are doing, probably wishing they were now what they were when they wanted to be what they are now.
     There are exceptions. Dear Abby ran a number of both pro and con experiences from reunions. The most memorable of what could happen involved a lady going to her 20th high school reunion, who very much wanted to see the special guy she dated as a senior. But he didn't attend. The reunion committee listed him as "Not located".
     At the time, they had had a spat and drifted apart. But they kept in touch, even after both married, via Christmas cards, until they lost touch.She was now divorced three years, after a rocky marriage, and  assumed he would still be married.Nevertheless she tracked him down, phoned and found he had been divorced for ten years and had tried to locate her. Turned out he still had strong feelings for her too.They were married within the month.
(To be continued.)
   
   
   

THINK ABOUT IT!

    Geezer friends of mine on occasion have extolled pretty good bits of park bench humor and wisdom. Recently one of them, looking around our morning kaffee klatch, came up with "Time is a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician!" Another one shot right back, reiterating, "Yah, time has sneaked up on us all like a windshield on a bug!"
     After sharing the resultant group chuckle, i got to wondering what other thought gems I might discover if I paid more attention to what people say and what they pass on in their writings. And it turned out to be golden research. Check out my treasure hunt findings.

So much of what you are not is because you are standing in your own way of becoming.
People who don't plan for the future have to live through it anyway.
The difference between a beautiful person and a charming person is that you notice the beautiful person, but      the charming person notices you. --Conrad Fiorello
People wrapped up in themselves make small packages.
A hypochondriac usually suffers in every way except in silence.
Those who often jump to conclusions land in ignorance.
What we need is a good diet shampoo for use by fat heads!
If you do a good deed, be sure to get a receipt, just in case heaven is like the IRS.
Happiness is good health and bad memory.
The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us. -     -Ashley Montagu
Happiness never decreases by being shared.
Many candles may be lighted from a single one and the life of that one will not be diminished.
People who say "it can't be done" are usually interrupted by those doing it.

How Hot Is It?

     Summer is finally upon us. Now we can bitch about the heat, which we've been wanting some of all winter!
     Start our rant with "It's so hot and dry in Clearwater county that the Baptists are starting to baptize by sprinkling, the Methodists are giving out wet wipes, the Presbyterians are giving out rain checks, and the Catholics are praying for the wine to turn back into water." (according to Jean  Cooke of Orofino, ID)
     As for the rest I have to tell you...........IT'S SO HOT THAT...

...furniture stores are doing a brisk business selling frozen water beds.
...you put on fresh sun screen just to go check the mailbox and, using any sunscreen formula less than 50 spf, is a joke.
...you find pet cats sleeping on the bottom shelf in the refrigerator.
...trees are whistling for dogs.
...your husband no longer snores. He sizzles.
...farmers are feeding their hens ice cubes to keep them from laying hard boiled eggs.
...Idaho potatoes are cooking underground. All you have to do is dig them up and add butter, salt and pepper.
...the irrigation shortage is solved: sweaty men on rotating chairs.
...you notice your car overheating before you even drive it.
...drivers wearing shorts are learning how to drive without their backsides actually touching the seats.
...car seat belts have become branding irons and you discover it only takes two fingers to drive your car.
...the prime parking space is determined by shade, not distance.
...when the temperature drops below 95 you feel a bit chilly.
...the new exercise at the senior center is "Naked Jazzercise".
...hot water is coming out of both taps.
...you discover a "swamp cooler' is not a Happy Hour drink.
...you realize asphalt has a liquid state.
...air conditioning repairmen are treated like rock stars.
...the real estate market heats up as the devil starts buying up homes.

(This has been culled from here and there on the Internet and, as usual, credits have not been given to the literary comedians responsible for them. But know at least, whoever you are, that your humor bits are being appreciated.)
...

What Does Today Mean?

     Have you ever wondered where the names for our days have come from? Wonder no more.
     Sunday, it turns out, is literally extrapolated from "Day of the Sun". Monday is from "Day of the Moon", which leaves more questions than it answers. Most of the remaining days are named after Germanic or Norse "gods".
     Tuesday is named for Tiu or Tyr, the god of war. Wednesday is named for Odin, or Woden, who was the "chief god", so to speak.
     Thursday, easily understood, is named for Thor - not the movie hero, but the thunder god. Friday is a boon to the fair sex. It's named for Odin's wife, Frigg. There's no proof that her name has led to the anti-curse "friggin". And Saturday is named after Saturn, the Roman agriculture god. Old Roman festivals, with their wild partying, brings us the term "saturnalia". Appropriate?

SIGNS OF HUMOR

         I love clever signs, those that present the business they advertise succinctly and with a bit of language ingenuity, preferably tied up with a humor caste. A good example was the slogan penned by a real estate agent named Bacon in Raleigh, NC: "Let Bacon Bring You Home". That does the job nicely, don't you think?
     And it is surprising how many more there are once you start looking for them.

Sign on a panel truck belonging to a body-and-fender shop in Los Angeles: "We take the dent out of accident."
On the window of the Cambridge Shop for men's clothes in San Diego: "Pants 1/2 off."
An Ojai, California, spirits and fine wine shop was named "Fred's Attitude Adjustment Shoppe".
A mod dress shop in Corona del Mar, California, was named "Happiness Is A New Rag".
A large sign out front of the El Rancho Motel in Lewiston, ID, stated: "Try our beds for sighs".
Sign in a Texas jewelry store: "Diamond tiaras - $70,000. Three for $200,000".
Slogan for Gar's Bread (Washington): "We really move our buns for you!"
Evergreen Refrigeration ad (Washington): "Ask Me About Being Cool".
Harbor Airlines (Washington) ad: "Driving is beneath us!".
Note in window of water bed sales outlet in Lexington Park,. MD: "Your vinyl resting place".
Sign fronting an Atlanta, GA, restaurant: "If the Colonel had OUR chicken recipe he'd be a General".
Sign at the entrance to a Sperry, OK, cemetery: "One Way! In Only!"
Lastly, but far from least, Los Angeles signs on a health food shop, stating "Diet Aids", next to a fast-food luncheonette adding "Cheat here!"

HOW TO LIVE TO 100...by those who made it!

Old age, to the unlearned, is winter;

To the learned, it is harvest time!

---Yiddish proverb

     The National Institute of Health has reported that Americans older than 65 will number 72 million by 2030. That will then be 20% of the overall population. That would be up from 40 million and just 13% in 2010.
     This means there are more senior citizens than ever and they are living longer, fuller and healthier lives. Men who reach 65 can expect to live another 17.7 years. And women who reach 65 can expect to live another 20.3 years.
     At the farther end of the age spectrum are our "century citizens" - those who have lived to 100 - and we have more of them than ever also. And it makes sense logically, then, that these longer, fuller and healthier lives spoken of will benefit this group as well. But, of course, such studies and reports don't take into account individuals' family longevity quotients, eating and exercise habits, job and economic stresses and such other factors that can waylay century living.
     In the 1960s much was made about isolated citizens of Abkhasia in the Soviet Caucasus. Reports of 120 to 140-year olds, in blooming health, were being shunted in the media. One elder, from Azerbaijan, near the Turkish frontier,  was awarded the Medal of Distinction when he reached 150. He said he owed his long life to hard work on a collective farm.
     /Shirali-baba Muslinov, a shepherd in a village a mile high in the same republic, was the "oldest person in the USSR" in 1966 at 160. Then there was Ashkanger Bzania, who remarried at 112 and sired a son. He died at age 147.
     According to Russian claims this region between the Black and Caspian Seas boasted 5,,600 persons claiming to have lived more than a century, at that time.  How had they done it? They lived 1,500 to 5,000 feed above sea level, did regular hard work, ate whulesome food and inherited strong constitutions, according to Soviet scientists who studied them.
     But no one outside the USSR was allowed to see them. And, when people started asking for proof, this Communistic hype quietly disappeared.
     In 1988, when I first started keeping track of century citizens locally (northern Idaho and eastern Washington), I found one 110, two 107s, a 106. a 105, four 104s, eight 103s, 16 102s, nine 101s and 25 100-year-olds alive. In 1989 six more were added, seven more in 1990, 14 more in 1991, one more in 1992 and 20 more .in 1993,  In 1989 a book, titled "Idaho 100: Stories from Idaho Century Citizens", by John O'Hara Kirk (published by U.S. West as an Idaho centennial project), listed 155 centenarians then living in over-all Idaho.
     Why was I researching in this region? Because I'm personally 90 (next month) and looking forward to the year 2024, the year i will be 100 years old. So I was checking on the secrets of these centenarians, how they felt they had been able to live so long. Unfortunately, none of these people had a glimmer how or why. Not one stated he or she started out at a young age with a goal of reaching the century mark.
     One obvious reason, of course, is that Americans don't treat their elderly like the Hottentots do, or did, leaving them in the desert to die, or like the Sardinians used to do, throwing them off cliffs. In the local media reports, though, a number of elements stuck out that seemed to have worked positively for our long-livers. They took care of themselves, avoided stress and didn't take on bad habits.
     My analysis showed that most of them worked all their lives, a great number farming and ranching, so they kept physically fit naturally.They did a lot more walking than we do today as well. According to pictures and sightings, there have been few fat 100-year-olds.\
     They reported living relatively happy lives, working through personal and family problems. And they were raised primarily in small communities, among families with as many as 16 children .More children meant more free farm help! These traits would be expected since the American society was largely agrarian in past centuries.
     Unexpected things showed up in my media search too. There were many teachers (12), though few college grads Some were teaching rural schools as teenagers. Many played musical instruments, often self-taught. Barn dances were the most often discussed "amusement" of the era.
     The biggest surprise debunked the idea that these elders lived in one place most of their lives. In truth, many homesteaded in several places. Not surprising was the fact more women than men made the century listing. In my centennial study there were seven men and 60 women centenarians.  In a California bicentennial study only two of 200 listed were men. And popular national columnist L.M. Boyd, at the time, revealed that two-thirds of people older than 100 were women.
     Few of my regional centenarians let slip any advice or personal secrets for long living. Annie Palmer said, "You have to keep active....I don't drink and I don't smoke. That's the main thing." Mae Stuk said, "I was always contented. I looked forward to the next day to what I had to do." Martha Weeks added, "Clean, Christian living!"
     Irene Hazelbaker was more of a philosopher: "Either handle it (age) or it will handle you. You take what comes and make the best of it," Eva Hodson thought longevity was no secret: "Healthy diet, including a steady diet of oatmeal, exercise and the work that goes with raising a family."
     Most men queried were more facetious than helpful. Vineyard owner Charley Braunersrither stated, "I owe it to the grapes." Ralph Stickney, Sr., who gave up smoking at age 70, drank only in moderation and wouldn't take medications after that, smiled when he admitted he didn't know. "The family just wanted to be sure I suffered long enough," he laughed.
      Richard Stout said, "I eat three meals a day and do nothing, so I'm in pretty good shape." He agreed with a newspaper report where a centenarian was asked how he felt and he replied, "Fine. In fact, I get around better now than I did a hundred years ago." He laughed and reminded me of the old chestnut, "If I had know I was going to live so long, I would have taken better care of myself."
     Sarah Larson was asked, "What plans do you have for the next 100?" "I was just wondering about that," was her reply. One idea suggested was to check out possible endorsements, like the centenarian who was asked, "To what do you attribute your long life?" and he replied, "I'm not sure. I'm still negotiating with a mattress company and two breakfast food firms."
   
   
 
















     Still hale and hearty at 90 (next month) there is considerable longevity in my family tree, on my mother's side, with her mother living to 93 and two aunts to 102 and 104. She beat breast cancer twice and lived to 99 1/2 with no debilitating diseases or health problems (other than deteriorating sight and hearing). But one of her last comments to me was, "Why has God let me live so long?" She was lonely for my dad, who died a dozen years earlier, for old friends, all gone also, and for grandchildren, scattered so hither and yon she never saw them. Two specialists both told me that it is not uncommon that century livers just give up on life, unable to face such devastating changes in their lives.
     Happily, many more century citizens don't face such losses

   

GEEZER MEMORIES FROM CHILDHOOD

     At my advanced age I can be one of these grandparents talking about "those good old days". But they weren't, you know. Those days gone by were simpler, I think, certainly less expensive, and kids didn't have so much "stuff". But nostalgia is funny, making things past seem better - more fun than they actually were - viewed now in retrospect.
     Take the "graveyard phosphate" we kids enjoyed (before Coke and Pepsi and all the other drinks got so big). Saturday movie "matinees" actually started at 10 a.m. and lasted three hours minimum. We enjoyed a double feature, cartoon, comedy, coming attractions and newsreel - for a dime. After the show we trooped across the street to what I can only label as a "greasy spoon" diner, named the Coney Island, for a little repast. This included the "phosphate", a soda counter drink I haven't heard of in many years.For another dime the "soda jerk" squirted the phosphate into a large glass, then went down the line of flavor spigots, adding a squirt of each. Thus the facetious name "graveyard".
     The 15-cent hot dogs there came with chili and onion bits slopped inside the bun. These, sometime later, would be called "chili dogs". Of course we had already had a nickel bag of hot-off-the-popper popcorn and a nickel candy bar or two during the movie, so the cash outlay mounted up to about 50 cents.
     Extra nickels went into the mini-jukeboxes installed in each booth at the diner. The cacophony from each jukebox playing a different tune simultaneously was not a musical treat, but it was part of the Saturday habit. And a 50 cents outlay was well worth it to parents who then knew where we were and what we were doing the entire Saturday!
     Black licorice "whips" were favorites at the penny-candy showcase. They are still around, but they're shorter and sell in packages for more serious money. Even priced at a penny, though, we often had to resort to a common substitute. We would haunt road construction sites and glom onto chunks of the road-covering tar to chew. It tasted terrible, but that wasn't the point. It was chewable and our parents hated for us to chew it. Especially when we let it get too dry and it bonded onto our teeth. It looked terrible and almost had to wear off. Sometimes, to keep us from chewing it, they'd give us a nickle for a package of Black Jack gum. Haven't seen that around in quite a spell either.
     Other penny candies then popular were the mini-bottles made of  wax that enclosed a few drops of a Kool-Aid-like drink, red-tipped white stick candies supposedly resembling cigarettes, and Red Hots, small red spicy chewables.The red coating, when wetted with spit, could be spread on the lips, so young girls loved to pretend it was something their mothers wouldn't allow, lipstick.
     Another source of summer sustenance was the ice wagon. It was a horse-pulled wagon filled with huge ice chunks that the delivery man chipped to ordered sizes, hoisted with metal tongs onto a leather shoulder apron, and carried into kitchen "ice boxes" (later called Frigidaires by one progressive company). We would pick the wayward chips out of the wagon and suck them on especially hot days.
     I mention Biscuit Soup on occasion when breakfasting out and it surprises me that waitresses have never heard of it. It was passed down to me from my grandmother to my mother to me. It was common during the '20s depression, as a way to use up days-old biscuits. Heat up a few cups of milk in a pan, with a couple spoonfuls of butter and a few shakes of salt and pepper in it, drop in a couple biscuits. In a couple minutes you have delectable biscuits awash in buttery milk. I still prepare it.
     Back an era, nuts were not sold shelled and packaged as they are now. Mixed nuts, usually on holidays, were merely put out in bowls, along with a set of picks and a nutcracker, and eating them became a do-it-yourself chore. Brazil nuts or "niggertoes" (so called long before language niceties banned such a name) were.tough to crack, so the youngsters left those for the adults, which was perfectly fine with the adults who thought they went very well with the "home brew" that often came up from cellars for clan holiday get-togethers.
     Every boy who got his first jackknife learned to play Mumbledepeg with it, usually from his dad. It then went with the boy wherever he went. The more blades it had, the more precious it was for bragging rights. The game consisted of placing the blade point onto various parts of the anatomy, holding the knife in place with a finger on the base of its upright handle, then whipping the hand forward and down so the knife would flip and stick into the lawn. Even with only two players the game could last an entire lazy afternoon since it started with flipoffs from the feet, then progressed to the knees, hips, fingers, elbows (it paid to be ambidextrous), shoulders, chin, nose, ears and (very carefully) the head. The better players always wanted to play the "miss and start over" rule.
     Other "toys", I guess they could be called, were discarded pieces of neon tubing, which could often be found in trash bins behind sign shops. Straight pieces made great dried pea or spitwad shooters. Curved pieces took a lot more practice and skill.
     Making darts was another skill we learned. We took a burned wooden matchstick (matches, for lighting wood stoves, sold in boxes), cut slits in an X across the non-lighting end with our jackknives, took a pair of pliers and forced the threading end of a needle into the other end of the stick, and tied it in place with a number of loops of thread around the stick where the needle was implanted. Then we cut two short strips of heavy paper to fit into the X slits, to serve as flight guides. An empty egg crate made a better, and safer, target than a playmate. We used to hunt flies with them, not too successfully. A dart with a couple inked hashmarks on it, though, was good for a week's bragging rights by its owner.





   
   









   

THE KEY TO ETERNAL YOUTH: Lie About Your Age!

     Women have clichedly (new word?) been famed for "untold ages". Nothing takes as many years off a woman's age as the woman herself! In fact, about the only time a woman wishes to be a year older is while she's having a baby.
     As a single senior I dated a single senior lady who was in an intriguing dilemma. She didn't want to have any more birthdays, but she didn't want to give up getting birthday presents either. Like so many ladies, she wanted to stop telling her age about the same time her age started telling on her. About all men could know then was that she was between the ages of consent and collapse.
     Every woman seems to know inherently that the secret of everlasting youth is to lie about their age. That way, via planned forgetfulness, they can age gracefully through all the latter of seven stages: infancy, childhood, adolescence, junior miss, young woman, young woman, young woman.
     Lying enhances the self image, I've been told, and, in some special instances, it can even become economically logical. Like in the story a census taker in Serman, Texas, once told. She was doing her duty all morn in one of the less entrancing sections of town and, having just finished an interview, she was leaving the building to go for lunch. Surprised, she heard, then turned to see the interviewee trotting pantingly down the sidewalk, calling after her.
     "Lady, I done made a mistake," the interviewee greets her. "I done give you my insurance age, 36, but I should of give my government old-age pension age. That's 42."
                                                  Fine As Wine
     We would all like to believe that, like wine, we improve with age. But we have to face facts ultimately. That's only true if the grapes were really good in the first place.
     The other side of this subtractive (another new word?) thought, however, is that many women could add years to their lives if they would simply tell the truth about their age. Some get around to that radical idea eventually, about the time, as I stated earlier, their ages starts telling on them.
     This is when math gets a working over. Women get a passion for tinkering with the rules of progressive arithmetic. They have their own "new math". According to the distinguished French playwright Marcel Archard, women will divide their age by half, double the price of their clothes, and always add at least five years to the ages of their best friends. That may be where Dr. Robert W. Williams, when associate professor of medicine at Boston University, got his proferred definition of middle age: "Someone 10 years younger than you are."
     This touchy problem of age attribution is tougher on men than on women, of course. In discussing self-preservation methods with another single senior-dating male, I asked, "What do you do when a woman asks you to guess her age?"
     "I guess my real guess to myself," he grinned slyly back, "then I knock off about 30% and, generally, come near to making myself adored."
     Wisdom like that does not automatically come with old age, though. Nothing does, except wrinkles.
     Age is, after all, relative. No two people age at the same rate, anyhow, other than mathematically. Thus, a woman should be only as old as she feels and looks - to herself, not to how she looks to another woman - mathematics be damned.
     All of us should remember -that, no matter how old we are, we are younger than we will ever be again!



   

THE MUNCH BUNCH: Yum's the Word

     Some eating and dining places - there's a big difference between the two, I've found - have had a knack with snacks that has impressed customers.
     I had occasions to check on some of these house specialties while living in Southern California some years ago. Most of these innovations could probably be copied successfully today.
     I found that even the serving of a cup of coffee can be impressive, yet gracious, if accomplished with style. It was the Sheraton-Wilshire Motor Inn that serviced sleepy breakfasters with 14 1/2 ounce cups of coffee, the largest in L.A. A fringe benefit - arm workouts lifting about a pound and a half with each sip.
     A weekend trip to Las Vegas provided the most unusual dining innovation. Along with the meal at Caesar's Palace came a comely slave girl, in typical diaphanous Arabian Nights costume, to pour the wine for each course of dinner and, if wished, hand feed grapes to the male customers. Her twin hovered in the background with a camera to take a souvenir picture of this scene, for a few bucks extra.
     As with other establishments bowser bags were furnished to take home those extra choice filets your eyes devoured but your stomach couldn't handle. Lesser places on the Strip, I noted, provided guests with Ivy League napkins (that buttoned down the shirt front) and heralded humorous fortunes inside garlic sticks.
     Reuben's in Santa Monica extended its take-home options to Herring Hampers, Bagel Bundles and Lox Boxes, while the Young China Cafe in Hollywood facetiously offered Dragon Bags. A waitress at Hollywood's Seventh Veil said they were considering Shiska Shirts for their shishkabob-to-go and Shiska Suitcases for family portions.
\     Teenagers at the time had their own supper club in Hollywood, called the Stratford-on-Sunset. It offered an after-dinner dessert named The Tempest. This gastronomy had 18 scoops of ice cream to it, plus the usual nuts, fruit and creams garnishes, and it was advertised as free to anyone who could swill it all in one sitting..
     At the other extreme were the calorie-conscious who lunched at Andre's in Beverly Hills. The dessert cart there tinkled a silver bell on its rounds so these stay-slim-at-all-costs gals could look the other way as it passed. Rand's Restaurant, in the same area, used a bell, too, but for a very different reason. Its Happy Hours drew big spenders who liked to spread the joy around by "buying for the house". So owner Ray Rand installed a cow bell and any patron who felt expansive could clang it to signal his largesse to the assemblage. It became an instant status symbol.
     The personal touch status symbol at Tarantino's had repeat customers picking up glasses with their names in gold on them as they came in. And the Santa Ynez Inn, after hosting about 3,000 wedding receptions, copied the name-in-cement idea made famous at Grauman's Chinese Theater for actors. Their brides and grooms were immortalized by setting their handprints and autographs in the cement floor of the Terrace there.
     Personalization was taken to a high art at the Hollywood Beverly Hills Hotel. Management there kept a dossier on every repeating guest so they were prepared for that guest's second visit, whether it was doggie delights for the pet poodle at 2 a.m.- should you and your poodle be so demanding - or milk baths. One Texas oilman ordered bear steaks his first visit and the embarrassed kitchen staff couldn't furnish them. But when he returned the next year the steaks were ready for him, having been flown in from Alaska.
     Beachcomber, Jr provided pull-up stools, which table hoppers could carry around with them as they socialized with friends at other tables. The Civic Center's Redwood Room catered to patrons with overflowing skins. A half-moon arrangement, called "the fat man's corner" by the help, boasted five extra inches on its seats.
     Dodger Stadium's builders conceded that three-hour double-headers necessitated similar "contour" seat comfort. They even installed a few love seats, so couples could enjoy all three of America's national pastimes concurrently: eating, loving and baseball.
   
   
     

My New Game: Free-Hand Pinochle

     Pinochle is a friendly card game. That's why players usually prefer the standard four-handed  game over the three-handed "cutthroat" game. But four players are sometimes not available. So I set about trying to find a mix of the two that remained friendly.
     I've come up with "Free-hand" Pinochle, which other members of my family have preferred calling "Dummy" Pinochle and "Bonus" Pinochle. All three names fit, since it is played by three players, has a "free" or "dummy" hand played by whoever wins it, and this "free" hand is played by the bid winner like a Bridge's dummy hand.
     The game is simple to play for those already engaging in Pinochle, since no new rules have been added, other than the new - and I think exciting - element, the ability of the bidder to finesse tricks a la Bridge from the lay-down hand. Here is how it is played.
     Deal four regular 12-card hands face down. The three players in the game pick up their hands and bid them. The fourth hand remains face down until the bid winner names trump. Then he turns the hand over and organizes it in suits, leaving it face up.
     Then the bid winner selects four cards from this free hand, to make his playing hand as strong as possible, and discards four cards back into the free hand, but places them face down. During play he may refresh his memory of them by looking at these cards whenever necessary, letting no one else see them.
     Now melds are made by all three players and counted. The free hand may be melded or kept secret by its owner.
     The bid winner plays first. He also plays the dummy hand in its turn. He is, thus, playing against the other two players in the game, who automatically become partners for the round.
     Since partners may change with each deal and bid, so scoring is kept individually. Melds and tricks taken count as in regular Pinochle. Each partner, after each deal, gets to claim the points made by that partnership during that round.
     The first player to total 1500 points is the winner.

           

Don't Leave Home On St. Pat's Day Without Something Green, Like Take Out the Christmas Tree

Loeffelbein - Now there’s a good old Irish name for you!
Just kidding, of course. Nonetheless, I still conform to the wearin’ of the green on St. Patrick’s Day, along with the 33.7 million residents of the U.S. claiming Irish ancestry. Anyone who doesn’t wear it is asked by everyone he meets where his green is, anyhow, so I’ve found it’s just easier to go with the flow.
It is not just Ireland and the U.S. celebrating any more. Some 147 countries now have St. Patrick festivals, including Sri Lanka, Japan and Indonesia, according to a report from Ireland’s Guinness brewery. In Ireland, however, March 17 historically was a religious holiday, as big as Christmas.
Of course, I won’t be alone. Thousands of  pseudo-Irish across the country will celebrate the day with green everything everywhere. Some of the places people find to put it, in fact, amazes and amuses me.
One of my own early remembrances, as a just-turned teenager, was of a local department store in my home town of Wenatchee, Washington, advertising an all-green lingerie style show “for men only”. The idea, of course, was for male attendees to purchase this exotic fare for wives and sweethearts. They were ahead of their time and even  of Victoria’s Secret”.
Naturally, I yearned to attend, even though I had no one to buy such garments for, even if I could have recognized any of their uses and had had the money. Now I see it as a quirk of nature that, when I was old enough to attend such a skin-show, I had much less inclination to do so.
Today, it seems, everyone gets cute for St. Pat’s Day, especially pubs and restaurants. Whereas the archetypal joke about Irish eating is “a seven course Irish dinner consisting of  a six-pack and a boiled potato”, it is just a joke. But while living in southern California some years back, I noticed some pretty unusual dining ads.
*The Wan-Q restaurant along Pico Boulevard in Los Angeles was serving “Cant O’Nese” food, with typical Irish music such as “Lovely Houlihans”.
* Andre’s in Beverly Hills went Gaelic, featuring “Paddy de foie gras”.
* Dorando’s in Hollywood, noted for its Italian cuisine, went with “Mac O’Roney” on its menu.
* One of the Irish bars (I’ve forgotten the name) gave out small shamrock lapel pins to customers.
* A truck stop near Barstow, CA, featured “Shamrock soup”, which turned out to have a lot of peas in it.
* A malt shop near Richland, WA, was serving Kelly green water, coffee made with green water and even had corned beef and cabbage as the day’s special, with green lemon pie for dessert.
Some years later the Cincinnati Reds baseball team, playing on St. Pat’s Day,  sported green uniforms with shamrocks on their sleeves, in place of their usual predominantly red glad-rags. Publicity reported they would wear the green whenever they played again on St. Pat’s Day.
I also remember there was a dentist named Peter Sweeney in Hollywood who made it a point to announce he was using green mouthwash on St. Pat’s Day. And I read about Warren Weber, who owned car washes in Manchester and Wetherfield, CT, who advertised that his establishments would wash all green cars free from 8 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. At closing time he dazedly tallied the day’s score - 1,600 green cars, at a $3,000 loss. He said he wasn’t going to do that anymore.
Such green enhancements were small potatoes compared to what has gone on in cities with concentration of Irish citizenry. Perhaps the largest concentration is in New York City, where they hold athe oldest and biggest St. Pat’s annual parade. It was either first held in 1762, we are told, though some claim it occurred even earlier, in 1664. It has grown to a six-hour spectacle with more than 125,000 green-clad paraders making the two and a half-mile shamrock shamble.
Some people of Irish persuasion, especially among the older generations, never miss it. One year, so the story goes, one elderly gent, originally hailing from County Cork in auld Erin, was convalescing after a long illness. But, when he heard the parade passing, he rose from his wheelchair wearing only his nightshirt and raced downstairs. On the way he wrenched a luxuriantly green potted palm in the lobby up by its roots, hoisted it to his shoulder and, so decorated, joined the throng following the green stripe painted down the avenue for the parade route.
The next largest annual celebration is probably in Chicago There they usually commemorate the day by dumping 100 pounds of vegetable dye into the Chicago River so it runs bright green. Their parade has included as many as 185 bands. Led by the Police Emerald Society Pipe Band, it has included as many as 38 bagpipe bands. once claimed as the largest congregation of pipers ever assembled.
Novelty dealers do huge curbside business purveying green tam-o-shanters, T-shirts which query “Where’s the beer?” or “Kiss me, I’m Irish”, and green-sheen flowers (of any color originally, until soaked in green dye overnight).
The day is a triple cause for celebration in Boston, where even the Irish remember it was on March 17, 1776 that General George Washington drove the British from Boston. “St. Patrick” was the password during that operation. But before that even, in 1737, Boston held the first St. Patrick’s celebration, not Ireland.
Seattle also has an annual parade, but the celebration became so popular it was stretched into an Irish Festival Week. The only thing that sticks out in my memory, making it different from other celebrations, was that it was capped with a soda bread baking competition. That’s an acquired Irish taste.
Citizens of Neill, NE, - dubbed Nebraska’s Irish Capital - paint shamrocks at street intersections to guide paraders. Sometimes they have to get out shovel brigades first to clear the snow. Then three-quarters of the town’s 4,000 population has still been known to attend.
Checking in on towns named Shamrock, we find the one in Texas draws as many as 4,000 revelers into town for its mini Mardi-Gra, with themes like “An Irish Salute to Texas”. Another in Oklahoma, population only 225 without the economy for any big blowout, usually settles for painting its biggest rock green.
Residents of Dublin, OH, got to make free international phone calls, including to their sister city in Ireland, while Cable TV’s Nick-at-Night, a few years back, re-ran four episodes of  “My Three Sons”, all tinted green.
In Vancouver, WA, the Irish flag has been raised at the Clark County Courthouse since 1936. This was a tradition started by noted pioneer resident Denny Lane and carried on by his descendents. They follow this with a traditional Irish feast and liberal toasting, music and jigging.
The only tradition I liked better was that of Frederick, MD. They don’t parade there, but instead “pub walk”, promenading from one end of Patrick and Market Streets to the other end from 3 p.m. to closing or to the end of  mass bladder control.
So it is, ideas have ranged from miniscule to magnificent, from the ridiculous to the nearly sublime. And this St. Pat’s Day we should expect nothing less.
Meanwhile to Irishmen everywhere:
May you always have
A sunbeam to warm you,
Good luck to charm you.
And a sheltering angel so nothing can harm you;
Laughter to cheer you,
Faithful friends near you,
And whatever you pray, heaven to hear you.
Happy ST. Patrick’s Day.


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