Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks in the Dust 1-23-12 |

Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks in the Dust 1-23-12

Recently, one of my good friends updated his living will. That’s a task all of us old geezers and “geez-gals” should do on occasion – even if it’s not the most fun thing to do.

Then, last week, a different friend sent me an e-mail of the updated living will from the comic character Maxine. It was so funny that I decided to update my living will in similar fashion – not really, but I probably ought to.

So, as an educational benefit of my column, I offer you my new living will:

I, Milo Yield, being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept alive indefinitely by artificial means.

Under no circumstances should my fate be put into the hands of pinhead politicians who couldn’t pass ninth grade biology if their lives depended on it, or lawyers/doctors interested in simply running up the bills.

If a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to ask for (or to do) at least one of the following: medium rare filet mignon, cold beer, homegrown tomato, roasting ears, bottle of scotch, iced or hot tea, nip of apricot brandy, chocolate ice cream, Mexican food, juicy hamburger and fries, ham, fried chicken, apple pie, custard, pizza, white or brown gravy, fresh biscuits, scrambled eggs, pickled okra, crisp apple, strawberries, a new country/western CD, watch college basketball or football game, play cards, go fishing, go hunting, play golf, plant garden, or drive through the Flint Hills …

Then … it should be presumed that I won’t ever get better. When such a determination is reached, I hereby instruct my appointed person and attending physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes, let the “fat lady sing,” and call it a good life!


A rancher wuz playing blackjack at a Las Vegas casino. He had a 13 count in his hand and he and the dealer were arguing about whether or not it was appropriate to tip the dealer.

The rancher said, “When I get bad cards, it’s not the dealer’s fault. And, when I get good cards, the dealer obviously has nothing to do with it. So, why should I tip him?”

The dealer replied, “When you eat out, do you tip the waiter?”

“Yes, sure I do,” responded the rancher.

“Well then, he serves you food, and I’m serving you cards. So, you see, you should tip me.”

“Okay, I see your point,” agreed the rancher. “But, the waiter gives me what I ask for … so, I’ll take an eight.”


Since the political scene is everywhere in the news, I see no reason this “educational” column shouldn’t get involved.

I recently ran across a brief, eloquent statement that paints a perfect picture of the whole situation. All members of Congress should have this emblazoned above the inside of their office doors. Here’s the statement:

“Witnessing the Republicans and the Democrats bicker over the U.S. debt is like watching two drunks argue over a bar bill on the Titanic.”

Then, a friend sent me a newly-coined word that also describes the political scene to a T. I could not find it in my old Webster’s dictionary. But, then I googled it and discovered it is a recently “coined” new word. Here’s the new word and its definition:

Ineptocracy (in-ep-toc’-ra-cy) – a system of government where the least capable to lead are elected by the least capable of producing, and where the members of society least likely to sustain themselves or succeed, are rewarded with goods and services paid for by a diminishing number of producers.

I love that word. The Occupy Wall Street protesters are part of the growing Ineptocracy Movement, I guess.


A recent ag college graduate married a big-city gal with a degree in Logic. One of their wedding presents wuz a newfangled electric coffee maker.

Well, after a few weeks, the newlywed wife decided that she didn’t like the gift and decided to take it back to the store where it wuz bought.

The lady at the return counter asked her if the coffee maker had malfunctioned. 

“Oh, no. It makes a great cup of coffee,” the newlywed said. “It works just like the instruction booklet says. I plug it in, set the timer, go to bed, and, when I get up, the coffee’s ready!”

“So, ma’am, what’s wrong with it? Why do you want to return it,” the puzzled company lady said.

“Because I don’t want to have to go to bed every time I want to make a pot of coffee,” the newlywed said emphatically.


With that, I’m sure you emphatically want me to quit this column for the week. So, I’ll do so with these few anonymous words of wisdom about coffee: “A cup of coffee shared with a friend is happiness tasted and time well spent.” Slurp away and have a good ‘un.

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