Laugh Tracks in the Dust 10-5-09 |

Laugh Tracks in the Dust 10-5-09

Normally fall isn’t the season for unusual thunderstorm and lightning happenings. And, it’s seldom in any season that a vehicle on rubber tires and lightning interact.

Well, one morning last week about 6 a.m., both happened to an unfortunate motorist traveling Highway 50 three miles south of Damphewmore Acres. One of the county’s emergency medical responders who worked the accident told me this true story.

We were having a rare fall thunderstorm, complete with lightning everywhere, when a lightning bolt blasted this unfortunate motorist’s car. Plus, it all happened just as another vehicle was passing the “blasted” car.

According to my EMS friend, the lightning bolt hit the car on its outside antennae – melting it into a puddle of metal on the body. The driver reported a tremendously loud clash of thunder/lightning. When it hit, the driver said all his car lights got brighter, his radio blared at full volume, and his cruise control went instantaneously to maximum speed.

About the same thing happened to the car passing the “hit” car. The driver of the “struck” car managed to kill the engine and coast onto the highway shoulder. The electronics of his car were fried and it wouldn’t start.

The driver of the “passing” car wuz able to restart his car and went on his way.

Remarkably, neither driver was physically injured, but both were understandably mentally shaken up.


Fall is the harbinger of all the hunting seasons. And, apparently, it’s also open season on practical jokes. Here’s a good true one.

Amos is an avid deer hunter. He’ll try anything to put a Boone and Crockett buck trophy on his wall. To that end, he recently bought one of the best remote wildlife cameras and installed it in the woods along the creek near his best hunting spot.

Each morning he tells his neighbors about all the wild game and big deer his camera has captured during the preceding night. After a few days of this, the neighbors fomented a great practical joke.

One neighbor has one of those “Walking Woods” camouflaged suits that makes you look like a walking pack rat’s nest. Another neighbor has chickens.

So, one dark night, Mr. “Walking Woods” donned his camo suit, got a chicken from the neighbor, and quietly walked into the woods and in front of Mr. Big Buck’s camera.

Imagine Mr. Big Buck’s consternation when he discovered that his camera had taken a picture of the proverbial “Big Foot” carrying a dead chicken in his woods.

As of this writing, I haven’t heard the final chapter of how this great practical joke played out.


An old-timer cowboy was always getting into bar fights on Saturday night binges in the nearest town.

One dawn he returned home with his clothes in tatters, two black eyes, a swollen nose, a missing front tooth, and with a chunk of his right ear missing.

His long-suffering wife met him at the door on the prod for answers. “Fighting again!” she yelled. “And just who were you fighting with this time – a professional boxer or wrestler?”

Through swollen lips, her hubby said, “Nope. It wuz that citified cowboy who bought the Watson Ranch on the other side of town.”

“What?” his astonished wife questioned. “You mean to tell me you let that limp-wristed, sissified, Porter Wagoner-suit wearing, panty-waste of a city dude whip you in a fist fight?”

“Shush your mouth,” her hubby slurred. “Tain’t nice to speak so ill of the dead, dearest!”


A hillbilly friend of mine from the Ozarks said one of his neighbors has a big family of grown kids and grandkids and the family decided that for the old man’s 70th birthday, they’d take him off the mountain to Branson to Silver Dollar City and to see the Baldknobbers stage show.

Only trouble is, the old man never takes a bath nor changes his shabby clothes. So, in a meeting of the minds, the grown sons decided their pappy just has to take a bath before the

big day.

Naturally, he resists, but the boys forcibly hold him down and begin to disrobe him for his bath. Off comes the filthy overalls and sweat-caked shirt. Now he wuz down to his grubby red-flannel long-johns. When the boys strip off the long-johns, lo and behold, beneath them is a wool sweater.

The old man quits his struggles and drawls, “Well, what da’ya know? I’ve been searching high and low since last winter for this sweater!”


I’ll quit on that low for this week. Until next week, remember these words of wisdom from patriot and signer of the Declaration of Independence John Hancock: “God rules in the armies of Heaven, and without His whole blessing, the best human counsels are but foolishness.”

Have a good ‘un.

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