What side do you want? | TheFencePost.com

What side do you want?

Laugh Tracks in the Dust
Milo Yield
Damphewmore Acres, Kan.

Funny things happen at the drive-thru line at fast food franchises. This one happened to a good friend of ours, Dawn T. Cook, who stopped at a Kentucky Fried Chicken establishment in Emporia to purchase some chicken meals for her grandchildren because she had too much on her plate (pun intended) to take the time to prepare a home-cooked meal.

So, she drove up to the local KFC’s drive-thru window and ordered: “Four kids’ meals and make sure each order has a chicken leg in it.”

The kid taking the order replied, “Thanks, ma’am. Which side do you want?”

Confused by the question, Dawn replied emphatically, “Why does it matter which side, left or right? It’s all chicken.”

The kid inside let out a hearty chuckle, “Which side DISH do you want? Mashed potatoes or cole slaw?”

Slightly embarrassed, Dawn apologized, paid for her meal, and skedaddled the premises. She should have kept the story to herself, but she didn’t. I heard about it. Now lots of folks can have a chuckle at her expense.

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Last week, I cataloged the route Nevah and I took to Owensboro, Ky. But, I failed to give a crop report. The crops are very spotty through eastern Kansas and all of central Missouri. They still show after effects of all the early rains and flooding.

But, the Mississippi River flood-plain crops are excellent, as are all the corn and soybeans growing in southern Illinois and northwestern Kentucky. Some of the corn had already been shelled and some of the soybean fields had shed all their leaves. Crops that we saw growing I’d give a A-plus grade if they don’t get damaged before harvest.

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I read that so-called journalists on the east coast — better described as fake-news clowns — are asking folks like you and me to “confess” to things we do that supposedly exacerbate global warming and tell what we are going to do to change our bad global habits.

Okay, I’ll take the bait. I’m sitting in my imaginary climate change confessional booth and I say to my global confessor:

“I confess to have sinned against climate change by eating too many beef steaks. I will try to change the bad results of that habit by eating them more rare. That will save on propane fuel consumption, which warms the globe.”

“I confess to keeping my home thermostat at the comfortable temperature of 76 degrees year around. I will try to change that bad habit by raising the thermostat to 77 degrees in winter and lowering it to 75 degrees in summer. I also will try to purchase another all-natural fiber wool shirt to wear in winter.”

“I confess to using a gas guzzling pickup truck as my prime mode of transportation because it is reliable on rough, bumpy, rural gravel roads as compared to the unreliability of electric battery fueled trucks. I will try to change the harmful effects of my personal transportation by using 100% ethanol-blend gasoline and by driving one mile per hour slower.”

“I promise not to fly anywhere anymore because I hate being patted down like a terrorist. My action will save an immense amount of jet fuel and perhaps lead to the elimination of one ‘patting down’ job by the federal government.”

“I confess to mowing my lawn too often which is wasteful of petroleum-based fuel. I hereby pledge to let the grass and weeds in my lawn grow 1/2-inch taller before I fire up the lawnmower.”

I figger if I do all the above things to slow down global warming, I’ll have done more than most of the “climate complainers” on either coast.

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Here’s a funny emailed to me recently: An upstanding, frugal elderly farmer suffered a serious heart attack while shopping in the local farm supply store. The alarmed store clerks called 911 when they saw him collapse to the floor.

The paramedics arrived and rushed the man to the nearest hospital where he had successful emergency open heart bypass surgery. He awakened from the surgery to find himself in the care of nuns at the Catholic Hospital where he was taken.

A pleasant nun was seated next to his bed holding a clip board loaded with several forms, and a pen. She asked him how he was going to pay for his treatment. “Do you have health insurance?” she asked.

He replied in a raspy voice, “No health insurance.”

The nun then asked, “Do you have money in the bank?”

He replied raggedly, “Very little bank money. Bad crops. Exports down.”

“Do you have a relative who could help you with the payments?” asked the increasingly irritated nun.

He said, “I only have a spinster sister, and she is a nun.”

The nun became agitated and announced loudly, “Nuns are not spinsters!

Nuns are married to God.”

The patient replied, “Perfect. Send the bill to my brother-in-law.”

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Words of wisdom for the week: “When I reach retirement age, I hope to be a retired lottery winner.” Have a good ‘un. ❖