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Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks in the Dust 10-8-12

I transacted a little bizness recently with a guy who drives a huge new diesel pickup truck. After our biz wuz done, we got to talking about trucks and fuel prices.

He wuz extolling the virtues and performance of his company truck and ended with this comment:

“This truck accelerates so fast when you put the pedal to the metal that I can pass anything on the road except for a diesel pump.”



e_SBlt

“This truck accelerates so fast when you put the pedal to the metal that I can pass anything on the road except for a diesel pump.”

I know a feller who claims he saw the following happen in a small town lumber yard.



A customer came in and needed a short board of 1-by-12 yellow pine. The amiable owner said he could provide the board, but he’d have to saw it off of a longer pine board.

So, customer and owner walked together to the lumber yard to find the needed board. During their walk, the owner felt a powerful surge of intestinal gas building up. He held everything in check, found the board, and put it up on the saw platform to cut it.

As he started the noisy saw, he thought to himself, “This saw is making so much noise that I can make a natural gas release and the customer will never hear it.” And that’s what he did.

However, while the saw noise did overpower his ‘relief noise,’ it did nothing to hide the after effect lingering heavily in the air.

The owner could scarcely contain a grin as the customer innocently commented, “I never smelled any yellow pine dust like that before. Very unusual.”

I guess that’s still more proof in the old adage, “Buyer beware!”

e_SBlt

After the evening news a few days ago, I went out to feed my two Brittany bird dogs, Annie Oak Leaf and Little Liv. All the political happenings were weighing heavily on my mind and I wuz mad at the Congress for allowing us to get into such a mess.

Then, like a flash, it just hit me! My dogs nap whenever they want to. They have their food prepared for them. Their meals are provided at no cost to them. They visit the doctor once a year for their checkups, and again any time any medical needs arise. For this they pay nothing, and nothing is required of them, except to appear friendly to everyone. They live in a comfortable home that is much larger than they need, but they do none of the upkeep on the place.

If they make a mess, someone else cleans it up. They are living like kings and queens and have absolutely no expenses whatsoever. All their costs are picked up by others who earn a living. I was just thinking about all this, and suddenly it hit me like a brick … my dogs should be serving in Congress.

e_SBlt

Thanks to a thoughtful Washington state reader for sending me this funny story.

An innocent little 8-year-old girl went to her grandfather, who was working in the yard, and asked him, “Grandpa, what is couple sex?”

The grandfather was surprised that she would ask such a question, but decided that if she’s old enough to know to ask the question, then she’s old enough to get a straight answer.

Steeling himself, he proceeded to tell her, as discretely as he could, all about the birds and the bees.

When he finished explaining, the little girl was looking at him with her mouth hanging open, eyes wide in amazement.

Seeing the look on her face, the grandfather asked her, “Why did you ask this question, honey?”

The little girl replied, “Grandma says that dinner will be ready in just a couple secs.”

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I see where the mayor of New York City successfully got a law passed that makes it illegal to buy more than one big, 16-ounce, soft drink. I guess he thinks even New York folks can’t figger out, if they are bent on buying two big soft drinks, that they can buy one and then cross the street and buy another.

I can be critical because I have never been a big soft drink buyer/drinker unless its unsweetened iced tea. If everyone drank soft drinks like I do, soft drink company stocks would still be penny stocks, but iced tea companies stock would be Wall Street’s best investment.

A regular reader from Colorado recently sent me the restaurant menu description of a dessert it offers to its customers. It’s called the Salty Hog Pie and here’s how it’s described: “Layers of salted caramel and roasted almonds, mouth-watering moist chocolate cake and our famous rich french silk filling in our flaky pie crust. Topped with candied bacon, fluffy whipped cream, roasted almonds and caramel drizzle.”

Salty Hog Pie doesn’t send my taste buds to watering, but I’ll bet it would send the New York City mayor into an oversized hissy-fit or conniption-fit …

Those are words of wisdom in themselves, so I’ll offer no more this week.

Just relax and have a good ’un. ❖


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