Here in the Flint Hills of Kansas, we’ve been waiting for a couple of months for the real winter to arrive. Well, we don’t have to wait any longer. Winter’s finally here – 6 inches of snow, temperature 5 degrees, and wind-chill around 10 below. As my great-grandmother used to say, “when the days start getting longer, the cold starts getting stronger.”

This is exactly the kind of weather I tried to escape when I left Iowa and moved back to Kansas more than six years ago. I still don’t like it, but I know it won’t last as long as in Iowa. Also, I know you folks in the mountain west will call me a panty-waist for complaining about winter, and I admit, I’m deserving of that derogatory term.

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My advice for all you readers is to skip over this next section of my column. The topic is disgusting, but I’ve got to fill this column with something.

The 24-hour intestinal bug is running rampant is our part of the country. It’s been a major topic of conversation anywhere I go. Whole families have been felled by this scourge – me included, except I wuz over it in less than a day.

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But, as I listened to the talk, I wuz struck by the many names that folks ascribe to this unfortunate intestinal ailment.

Here are names that I can recall off the top of my head: Of course, the most often heard is diarrhea (If you can’t remember how to spell it, just recall the first letters of this acronym – Darned Inconvenient As Rectum Reaches High Evacuative Action). I learned that spelling trick from an old animal nutrition professor during my college days at Bea Wilder U. And, no, I don’t know a similar spelling trick for hemorrhoids.

Other common expressions I’ve heard are loose stool, the drizzles, the drizzlies, the scours, the scoots, the runs, the squirts, the trots, the outhouse trots, Montezuma’s Revenge, and my favorite, the green apple quick step, plus one I’ve never heard of – the Van Diddens. Of course, there were a few other terms too graphic or descriptive for the public press.

I hope you’ve escaped any and all of the above. But, if you’re a little queasy right now, remember, I gave you fair warning. You just don’t take advice very well, do you?

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Thanks to an avid Minnesota reader for this story.

An aged Ole wuz chopping ice from his pig-pen trough, while Lena leaned against the fence to make sure Ole would have help close at hand if he slipped on the ice and fell in the pen.

When they got back to their warm house, Lena poured them both a hot cup of coffee laced with a jigger of schnapps. As they sipped coffee in silence, Lena broke the silence and said, “Ole, do you remember dat next veek vill mark our golden vedding anniversary? Fifty years ve’ve been togetter. Vhy don’t ve invite all our kids and grandkids and all the neighbors over for a big anniversary party? Ve could kill one of dem big fat pigs in the pen.”

Ole scratched his grizzled head, stroked his moustache, and replied, “Gee, Lena, I don’t see why one of dem poor pigs should take the blame for someting dat happened 50 years ago.”

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My friend Ben Hawlin was running late with a truck load of soybeans he wanted to get unloaded at the elevator before it closed for bizness. He sped down an isolated country road, rolled slowly up to a STOP sign, checked for traffic and then accelerated through the intersection.

Unfortunately, the deputy sheriff spied him and pulled Ben over. After checking Ben’s license, registration, and proof of insurance, the deputy said, “Ben, I’m going to issue you a citation for failure to stop. You do this kind of thing all the time.”

Exasperated, Ben complained, “Officer, we’re the only ones around for miles. I slowed down enough to see no traffic was coming. You need to use some common sense in this matter.”

Without a word, the officer whacked Ben’s head three times in quick succession with his night stick and then said, “Ben, let me test your common sense. Should I slow down or stop?”

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I’d better stop this column before you wanna whop me on the head with a club. So, I’ll close with these few words of wisdom I saw on a sign in an aggie place of bizness in Missouri.

The sign said: “Be friendly, or leave.” Good advice. I’m leavin’. Have a good ‘un.