Chicken Wire and Duck Tape

An old man in Mississippi was sitting on his front porch watching the sun rise. He sees the neighbor’s kid walk by carrying something big under his arm. He yells out “Hey boy, whatcha got there?” Boy yells back “Roll of chicken wire.” Old man says “What you gonna do with that?” Boy says “Gonna catch some chickens.” Old man yells “You damn fool, you can’t catch chickens with chicken wire!” Boy just laughs and keeps walking. That evening at sunset the boy comes walking by and to the old man’s surprise he is dragging behind him the chicken wire with about 30 chickens caught in it.

Same time next morning the old man is out watching the sun rise and he sees the boy walk by carrying something kind of round in his hand. Old man yells out “Hey boy, whatcha got there?” Boy yells back “Roll of duck tape.” Old man says “What you gonna do with that?” Boy says back “Gonna catch me some ducks.” Old man yells back, “You damn fool, you can’t catch ducks with duck tape!” Boy just laughs and keeps walking. That night around sunset the boy walks by coming home and to the old man’s amazement he is trailing behind him the unrolled roll of duck tape with about 35 ducks caught in it.

Same time next morning the old man sees the boy walking by carrying what looks like a long reed with something fuzzy on the end. Old man says “Hey boy, whatcha got there?” Boy says “It’s a pussy willow.” Old man says “Wait up … I’ll get my hat.”

Sunday, May 9, 2021

The “Other” Child

While I have been giving Gail plenty of attention over the past year and a half, I have not given much if any attention to Alex in this space. Born somewhere around July 15, 2009, Alex is soon to be 12 years old. I got him off Craigslist after my previous cat passed away. The people who were giving him away said that he had been abandoned on their porch. Alex immediately took to his new forever home and soon after learned to come when I called his name.

For almost a decade, Alex has suffered from a kind of bulimia. Whenever I bring it up, the vet repeatedly defaults to the notion that it is hairballs, but hairball remedies do not improve the condition. No, it is more akin to what they call “scarf and barf”. He eats, he barfs, he eats again, he is fine… mostly. I have tried many techniques for dealing with this, but nothing has ever proven to be long term effective.

Recently I have found pureeing his canned cat food in an old mini food processor has halted his bulimic patterns. I fear it might not be enough though. Alex has been very thin and tired looking, with a permanently furrowed brow. There is no nice way to say it. I’m getting that EOL vibe.

Please, God, just let me wrong about this for a change. Alex is a good cat, and honestly I don’t think I’ll be able to get another cat until after Gail is gone. The thing is, I’ve always had a cat around, and I don’t like the idea of not having one. The house would feel too empty.

So let us hope the pureed food turns things around for Alex. Even if he looks like a grumpy old man, I hope he can live another decade or more. In some ways, I even hope he outlives Gail.


Did I mention our submission page? It’s still a thing around here, and I count on people like you to put jokes into it. Thanks ever so much. It really means a lot to me.



A Minnesota Story

All of his life Ole had heard stories of an amazing family tradition. It seems that his father, grandfather and great-grandfather had all been able to walk on water on their 21st birthday. On that day, they’d walk across the lake to the boat club for their first legal drink. So when Ole’s 21st birthday came around, he and his pal Corky took a boat out to the middle of the lake.
Ole stepped out of the boat and nearly drowned! Corky just managed to pull him to safety.
Furious and confused, Ole went to see his grandmother. “Grandma, it’s my 21st birthday, so why can’t I walk across the lake like my father, his father, and his father before him?”
Granny looked into Ole’s eyes and said, “Because, you dumb ass, your father, grandfather and great grandfather were born in January, you were born in July.
Happy Sunday

Duck Hunt

Guy from the city goes out hunting ducks and he shoots one.
The duck falls out of the sky, into a field on the other side of a fence. So the duck hunter goes over to get the duck but sees no trespassing sign on the fence.
Looking around, he doesn’t see anyone, so he climbs over and gets the duck.
Suddenly this big farmer comes up.
Hey! What are you doing here, you’re on private property
Hunter says Well I shot this duck I came to get the duck.
Farmer says That’s my duck.
Hunter says No you don’t understand. I shot the duck, it’s my duck.
No you don’t understand. Where are you from?
From the city.
That’s the problem. You don’t understand property rights. My land, my duck.
Hunter says yeah but…
I tell you what, we’ll solve this the country way.
what’s that?
We kick each other in the groin, last one standing gets the duck.
Hunter says well okay.
My land so I go first.
So the farmer hauls off and kicks this guy in the groin as hard as he can. Laying on the ground moaning and groaning for15 minutes, finally catching his breath, the hunter gets up.
It’s my turn now.
Farmer says Ok you can keep the duck.