Yield: The things you’ll hear getting coffee | TheFencePost.com

Yield: The things you’ll hear getting coffee

Milo Yield

I didn't think ol' Nevah and I were nimble enuf to dodge anything these days, but last weekend we dodged the massive ice storm that crippled much of Kansas and many other states.

Here at Damphewmore Acres, the temperature hovered around 34 degrees which apparently was just barely high enuf to spare us the big ice buildup. At the very worst of the storm, we had perhaps one-eighth-inch of ice on the trees — not enuf to bring down a single limb or electrical line.

I think I may have had a hand in making the storm miss Damphewmore Acres. Convinced that we would have a power outage and would be facing a cold night or two, I bought a $162 radiant propane heater in advance of the storm. I think that action — and expense thwarted the Weather Gods. Regardless of why, I'm just glad we didn't lose electricity in the storm.

•••

“I think I may have had a hand in making the storm miss Damphewmore Acres.”

A rancher in rural Missouri, ol' B.D. Law, wanted to be the sheriff in his county. To satisfy his political ambition, B.D. filed for the office several times and got soundly trounced every time by the voters.

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When B.D. reached his 70s, he decided to try one more time to be elected as the county's chief law enforcer.

In his final run for sheriff, B.D. once more never got enuf votes.

So the next morning after the election, he strapped on his holster and pistol conspicuously and went to town. While walking around the town square, an old friend walked up to him and said, "Old son, I thought you lost the election for sheriff again.

The defeated candidate replied bitterly, "Yep, I lost again. But I figgered no more friends than I've got in this county I might ought to strap on my gun for personal protection."

•••

A group of seniors were sitting around the local rural senior center talking about all their ailments.

"My arms have gotten so weak I can hardly lift this cup of coffee," said a retired farmer.

"Yes, I know," said a retired rancher. "My cataracts are so bad I can scarcely see well enough to pour cream in my coffee."

"I couldn't even mark an 'X' at election time because my hands are so crippled," volunteered a purple-haired widow.

"What? Speak up! What? I can't hear you," said the lady next to her!

"I can't turn my head because of the arthritis in my neck," said one, to which several nodded weakly in agreement.

"My blood pressure pills make me so dizzy!" exclaimed another.

"I forget where I am and where I'm going," said another.

"I guess that's the price we pay for getting old," winced an old man as he slowly shook his head.

The others nodded in agreement.

"Well, I think you all should count your blessings," said the senior center director cheerfully. "Be thankful you all can still drive here every morning for coffee."

•••

We got a packet of stuff from our accountant, ol' Penn Cilpusher, this week, which reminded me that tax time is just around the corner.

So, this story is pertinent. The IRS returned the tax return to a rancher in Wyoming after he apparently answered one of the questions incorrectly.

In response to the question, "Do you have anyone dependent on you?" The rancher had written: "2.1 million illegal immigrants, 1.1 million crack heads, 4.4 million unemployable scroungers, 80,000 criminals in prison, plus 650 idiots in Washington and the entire group that call themselves politicians."

The IRS stated that the response he gave was unacceptable.

The rancher's response back was, "Who did I leave out?"

•••

Here's some non-important things I learned by listening at the coffee shop:

If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6-feet-by-8-feet and is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner.

The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10 to 12 feet. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top.

The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkably nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place. If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash.

A bumblebee, a horsefly or a wasp, if it is dropped into an open-topped clear pint jar, will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists until it completely destroys itself.

So, I guess, in many ways, we people are like the buzzard, the bat, the bumblebee, the horsefly and the wasp. We struggle with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing that all we have to do is look up for the solution!

That's enuf wisdom right there for this week. We got us a new president, so strap in for a rough four- year political ride. Have a good 'un.❖

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