Good morning on a wet and fairly dreary looking day in beautiful downtown Byfield. This is in marked contrast to the weather we have enjoyed for most of the week which has been generally sunny and even pleasantly warm for the most part. We had been expecting the tail end of hurricane Gordon but fortunately for us, that went through the north of the British Isles, disrupting some of the preparation for the Ryder Cup in Dublin and lashing Northern Ireland and Scotland but seemingly leaving us pretty much alone. Thanks Gordon.
Our delivery department still seems to be suffering some disruption to our services. After week before last's mysterious delay, this past week one of our subscribers suffered an intolerable service. I won't mention any names but it seems that Hanover Bob's delivery failed to arrive on Sunday. He very politely e-mailed to enquire about its non-arrival and I immediately dispatched another copy via our alternative delivery source. This too failed to arrive, I was informed in slightly less modest language along with the suggestion that I should attach it rather than sending it in the body of the message. Our delivery services duly complied with his request which still, apparently, failed to materialise. By this time, as you can imagine, I was somewhat perplexed as I had not received any other messages concerning non-delivery so I checked with one of our premium subscribers, the artist formerly known as Miss Pissed Off in Portland. She very kindly informed me that her subscription had been delivered on time and that, in any event, she certainly would have let me know in no uncertain terms if it had failed to arrive. So, as you can imagine, I was stumped. By now it's about Wednesday and neither Hanover Bob nor his delightful live-in companion have received their respective copies of Sunday's Befouled Weakly News. So, in response to a further request I again attached it and dispatched it and it finally arrived. I can't think what was going on there unless there has been some tweaking of junk filter rules at Aldephia so that this mass circulation spam was quite justly condemned to the junk mailbox – who knows. If we have similar troubles this week no doubt we'll hear! I won't mention the fact the he then began to complain about the quality of some of the allegedly amusing anecdotes included. Some people just don't know when they are well off, i.e., when the Befouled Weakly News does not soil their inbox. Love to you all, Greg Grandpa was always going on about the good old days, and the lower cost of living, in particular. "When I was a kid, my mom could send me to the store, and I'd get a salami, two pints of milk, 6 oranges, 2 loaves of bread, and a magazine, some new blue jeans, all for a dollar! Then Grandpa said sadly, "You can't do that anymore because they got those darn video cameras everywhere." Recently a routine RCMP patrol parked outside a bar just off the main highway at Goobies, Newfoundland. After last call the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing. After what seemed an eternity and trying his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his car which he fell into. He sat there for a few minutes and then threw a hook and line out the window and seemed to be trying to catch a fish. A number of other patrons failed to observe this crazy drunk as they left the bar and drove off. Finally the drunk started the car, switched the wipers on and off (it was a fine, dry summer night) flicked the blinkers on, then off a couple of times, honked the horn and then switched on the lights. He pulled in the hook and line and moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little and then remained still for a few more minutes as some more of the other patron vehicles left. At last, the parking lot was empty, he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive slowly down the road. The officer, having patiently waited all this time, now started up the patrol car, put on the flashing lights, and promptly pulled the man over and carried out a breathalyzer test. To his amazement the breathalyzer indicated no evidence of the man having consumed any alcohol at all! Dumbfounded, the officer said, "I'll have to ask you to accompany me to Headquarters. This breathalyzer equipment must be broken." "I doubt it," said the truly proud Newfoundlander. "Tonight I'm the designated decoy." Some time ago, I was taking a ground school class for private pilots. During the sessions on weather, the instructor wanted to discuss the concept of sublimation--the act of going from a gas to a solid skipping the intermediate stage(s). e.g., frost-- water vapor in the air becoming a solid on surfaces without first going through the liquid stage. Wanting to see if the class had understood the concept, the instructor asked if anyone could provide an example of something that went straight from a solid to a gas (expecting "dry ice" as the answer), a previously unknown section of my mind took control of my mouth and immediately emitted the word "burrito." It took the instructor about 10 minutes to regain an academic composure. The state trooper pulled Mr. Schwarz over and, after inspecting his license and registration, informed the motorist that he was going to have to spend the night in jail. "What's the charge? Mr. Schwarz demanded. "None," replied the officer. "It's all part of the service." At 85 years of age, Wally married Anna, a lovely 25-year-old. Since her new husband is so old, Anna decides that after their wedding she and Wally should have separate bedrooms, because she is concerned that her new but aged husband may overexert himself if they spend the entire night together. After the wedding festivities Anna prepares herself for bed and shortly after hears the expected "knock" on the door. Sure enough the knock comes, the door opens and there is Wally, her 85-year-old groom, ready for action. They unite as one. All goes well, Wally takes leave of his bride, and she prepares to go to sleep. After a few minutes, Anna hears another knock on her bedroom door, and it's Wally. Again he is ready for more "action". Somewhat surprised, Anna consents for more coupling. When the newlyweds are done, Wally kisses his bride, bids her a fond goodnight and leaves. She is set to go to sleep again, but -- aha you guessed it -- Wally is back again, rapping on the door, and is as fresh as a 25-year-old, ready for more "action". And, once again they enjoy each other. But as Wally gets set to leave again, his young bride says to him, "I am thoroughly impressed that at your age you can perform so well and so often. I have been with guys less than a third of your age who were only good once. You are truly a great lover, Wally." Wally, somewhat embarrassed, turns to Anna and says, "You mean I was here already?" Back to the Befouled Weakly News Index Back to Greg's Temporary Home Page
|
I ran across the attached Oliphant cartoon earlier in the week on one of the numerous sites I visit to entertain myself and have to confess I didn't understand a word of it. That is, until, the BBC finally carried an article about your (those in the US at least) current spinach crisis. What a blow! I am a big fan of spinach and, while I don't wish to rub anyone's nose in our bountiful circumstances, but we have an abundance which is completely, guaranteed, certified e-Coli free. Actually, to be fair, Pen grew Swiss chard this year instead of spinach but it is effectively (to my tired taste buds at any rate) the same and exceedingly enjoyable. Pen does a mean spinach cutlet with onion, garlic and parmesan cheese and I simply adore fresh baby spinach leaves in my luncheon salad each day. I would offer to ship you some but I fear that by the time it arrived it would have degenerated into a soggy mess and be no better for you than your current crop. So, instead, I will make a promise to eat as much of it as I can before a frost knocks the crop on its head. Pen – spinach cutlets for dinner tonight?