Laugh Tracks in the Dust 9-6-10
If you don’t pronounce your words precisely, sometimes the misunderstanding can be pretty funny. To wit:
I went into the local feed store recently to buy some poultry feed and dog food. Just as I wuz walking out my cell phone rang and it wuz my good friend, ol’ Rollin Birdz. When he found out where I was, he asked me to go back inside and ask the proprietor to order him several bags of special flight conditioner feed for his pigeons and other young fowl.
Doing my friendly duty, I re-entered the store and relayed the order to the owner. Then as I wuz leaving, a very nice lady in the store asked me quizzically, “Why on Earth would anyone ever order ‘fly conditioner.’ The only condition that’s good for flies is ‘dead.’ “
After I got through laughing, I enunciated the word “flight” more precisely and then we both had a good laugh about the misunderstanding.
I just had another recollection about the vacation to New Mexico that ol’ Nevah and I returned from about a month ago. You’ll recall that I spent some time with my old college buddy Potter E. Klector and his wife, who is a fabulous gourmet cook.
The recollection I had was from one of the sumptuous meals that we had with them. I want you to picture this scene. Mrs. Klector had carefully prepared one of her specialties – an exotic form of lasagna. The table setting wuz one of colorful and precise perfection. As we sat to eat, we had an unobstructed evening view of Sandia Peak looming not far away.
So, imagine my surprise when I took the cloth napkin from its holder and beheld what wuz printed on it. It wuz a white napkin with drawings of probably 30 forms of North American wild animal “scat” printed on it. Scat is a biologist’s name for animal droppings.
There were drawings of poop from a variety of animals from moose to mouse, from bison to beaver, and from cougar to chipmunk. The napkin was in 180-degree contrast to the rest of the ambiance of the meal and we all had a great laugh about it – and it detracted not a whit from the delicious meal.
To top it off, it turns out that my friend Potter has a T-shirt with the same “scat” pattern on it. Wish I had one, too.
Late summer and fall is when local farmer’s markets really boom, but there is sometimes a real disconnect between the rustic farmers and their too-urban customers.
To prove my point, my two truck farming friends, ol’ Kent A. Loupe, and ol’ Tom A. Toess, were parked side-by-side at their local farmer’s market. They were having a great day. Their trucks were loaded down with fresh, local produce and customers were in a buying mood.
But the mood changed when Kent finished up with a customer and turned to Tom with a disgusted look on his face. Kent said, “Sometimes I wonder about these city slickers. Especially the ones that come from the really big cities.”
“What’s wrong with city slickers?” asked Tom. “They’re our best customers. Heck, that last fellow bought two watermelons from you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah I guess you’re right,” Kent replied. “But it just galls me every time I sell a watermelon to a city slicker. Especially when they ask me how to peel it.”
Thanks to a reader from Douglas, Wyo., for e-mailing me this joke to share.
An Old Order Mennonite lady is trotting down the road in her horse and buggy when she is pulled over by a police officer. The officer says, “Ma’am, I’m not going to ticket you, but I do have to issue you a warning. You have a broken reflector on your buggy.”
“Oh, I’ll let my husband, Jacob, know as soon as I get home.”
“That’s fine,” the officer said. “But, another thing, ma’am. I don’t like the way that one rein loops across the stallion’s back and then around his tender parts and then back to you in the driver’s seat. I consider that animal abuse. That’s cruelty to animals. Have your husband take care of that right away or I’ll have to give you a ticket next time I see you on the road!”
Later that day, the lady is home telling her husband about her encounter with the cop. “Well, dear, what exactly did he say?” asked the husband.
“He said the reflector is broken on the buggy,” replied the lady.
“I can fix that in two minutes. What else?” asked the husband.
The wife replied, “I’m not sure, Jacob. Something about the emergency brake.”
Well, if I don’t quit right now, I’ll be in an emergency situation with the length of this column. So, I’ll quit for this week with these words of wisdom about emergency from an old proverb: “Bad planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.”
Have a good ‘un.
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