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February 3, 2014
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Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks on the Dust 2-3-14

Folks, this column is a milestone for me. It marks the end of my 40th year of writing this little weekly (weakly?) attempt at humor for rural folks. By my reckoning, this would be column number 2,080. Little did I suspect back on February 5, 1974, that my first column would lead to this point. If I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have even started. So, I’m glad I didn’t know back then because it’s been a great experience (most weeks) and I still (mostly) enjoying writing it.

So, with that intro, let’s just plunge off into ol’ Milo Yield’s 41st year as a columnist.

We’ve been having what I call “yo-yo” weather. A week ago, the temperature plunged below zero. Three days ago, the high was 68 degrees. This morning the temp was four degrees. This weekend, the forecast is for temps in the 50s. Plus, the wind has “yo-yoed” up and down by about the same extremes. Regardless, I’m ready for spring and I know it’s still a long ways off.

My good buddy, ol’ Lon G. Horner, wuz the butt of a great practical joke last week at the local cafe where a regular coffee klatch of old boars gather every morning to ruminate over local and world happenings while devouring their breakfasts. I seldom attend because it’s not economical to drive that far every morning, but I’d have gone that morning if I’d known what would happen.

Here’s the way the story wuz told to me.

When Lon came into the cafe to join the klatch, he immediately announced that his stomach wuz a bit queasy that morning and that he hoped he wuzn’t coming down with an ailment of one sort or the other.

So, Lon didn’t just dive into his breakfast, but kind of picked at eating. After a few cups of coffee, he left the table and headed for the bathroom. As soon as he left his table, someone wished out loud that he wished there wuz some way the group could put Lon’s queasy stomach to a real test.

One regular volunteered that he knew just how to do it. Like most snoose dippers, this guy keeps a paper cup handy to spit in when he’s sitting indoors. By that time in the morning, he had his cup about half full.

So, while Lon wuz still gone from the table, the practical joker got a fresh paper cup and filled it half-full of tepid coffee. Upon Lon’s return to the table, within a minute or two, this practical joker nonchalantly tips up his fresh “spit cup” of coffee and immediately sputters and gags and says, “Yuk! (gag) Got the wrong cup. Nasty! That would gag a maggot!”

Lon took one look at the guy and just about lost his breakfast right there on the table. But he didn’t and everyone had a great laugh.

But, the best part is that ol’ Lon left the cafe that morning not knowing that he’s had a practical joke played on him. I’m hoping against hope that when he reads this column, it will be the first time that he knows the truth of what happened that morning.

Last Monday, around 250 of my fellow Constitution-loving, 2nd Amendment adherent, redneck, potential terrorists — whom the esteemed governor of New York would kick out of his state as “too conservative” — gathered nearby for an estate auction of firearms, wildlife traps, ammunition, wildlife trophy mounts, firearm books, art prints and sculptures, and other assorted hunting gear.

It was an “auction from hell” for those with a “progressive” mindset like PETA, the Humane Society of the U.S., the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, former New York City mayor Bloomberg, Handgun Control, Inc., National Handgun Control Voter Education Fund, Coalition to Prevent Gun Violence, the Violence Policy Center, most of the sitting members of the ruling party in the U.S. senate, and a plethora of others bent on subverting the Constitution.

The auction had more than 50 firearms for sale that day and the auction action wuz hot and heavy with most of the guns and ammo selling for near new prices. I watched as one collection of around 20 mismatched caliber centerfire rifle bullets (they looked to be what wuz left over out of an old drawer) sold for more than $100. There had to be some rare collector-quality bullets in that bunch that only two bidders knew about.

As for me, I bought a well-used, single-shot, bolt-action Winchester 47, 22-cal rifle that I’ll use to dissuade the nuisance English sparrows who love to eat chicken feed and poop all over the feeders in the hen house. It wuz the first firearm to sell in the auction and, as it turned out, the least expensive one to sell that wuz in working order.

All in all, the folks at the auction were in a festive mood and I’ll bet there wuzn’t a single terrorist or trouble-maker in the group. I wuz proud to be amongst them.

After 40 years of column writing, folks ask me where I get my ideas. The main thing is that life’s funny if you keep watching. The second was best said by good ol’ Will Rogers. He said, “It’s easy to be a humorist when you’d got the whole government working for you.”

Enuf said. Wish me a happy 71st birthday and have a good ’un. ❖


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The Fence Post Updated Jan 31, 2014 01:34PM Published Feb 18, 2014 11:42AM Copyright 2014 The Fence Post. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.