The long-suffering wife of an elderly retired farmer wuz complaining to her neighbor about how her hubby got so wrapped up in how his favorite professional and college football teams were doing that he tended to ignore her for most of the football season.
She said hubby never missed watching on TV a single minute of every game, all the pre-game hoopla, and all the follow-up program after the games were over, too.
She went on to say that even though her husband’s health wuz rapidly declining, he still wuz addicted to watching football.
Then, she told her neighbor, “I know my husband is on his final downhill slide in life, so I’ve already got a plan in place for when he’s departed. I’ve decided not to bury him at all.”
“What are you going to do? Have him cremated?” her neighbor asked.
“Nope,” the wife replied. “I’m gonna hire a taxidermist and have him stuffed and mounted in his favorite reclining chair in the living room in front of the TV. Then, I’ll turn the TV on his team’s football games, talk to him, and he won’t answer. It’ll be just like he never left.”
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I can’t verify that the following story is true, but I saw it and thought it wuz fitting to include it in this column — especially in light of the tight conditions in the beef supply these days, and the price of beef in the supermarket or at restaurants.
What’s in a steak name? The story depends upon the kind of steak — all steaks, or specific ones like sirloin or chateaubriand. There’s more to these names than “meats” the eye.
The story goes that, in fact, the word “steak” comes from an old Saxon word, steik (pronounced ‘stick’) which means “meat on a stick.”
The Saxons and Jutes lived in what is now Denmark, where they raised cattle, which they cooked on a pointed stick over a campfire. When they conquered Great Britain, they brought their cattle — and their steik — with them. The name has continued down through the centuries.
On the other hand, the English get credit for naming the sirloin. The story goes that a British monarch became so enthused when savoring this meat that he pulled out his sword and dubbed it “Sir Loin.”
A cut of filet mignon, called the chateaubriand, is supposedly named for the French viscount, writer and statesman of the same name, who lived during the Napoleonic era. It was his chef, Montmireil, who created the dish.
Knowing this story won’t make your steaks taste better, but at least you know the story.
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A family living in town labeled all their outdoor toys — bikes, tricycles, wagons and so on — with their family name to avoid confusion with the neighbors’ stuff.
The family decided to move into a nearby rural area for the more relaxed lifestyle and a better environment for raising their kids.
After moving to the country, the kids went exploring. The family’s young daughter came home all excited from riding her bicycle past the farm up the gravel road from her new home.
“I know what the farmer’s name is.” she exclaimed to her parents. “It’s John Deere.”
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An elderly rancher got summoned to serve jury duty. The case to be tried wuz for murder.
The rancher showed up for jury duty and was questioned closely by both the lawyers for defense and prosecution.
He was about to be accepted for jury duty when the prosecutor asked: “Do you believe in capital punishment?”
The rancher answered, ”Well, yes, provided it ain’t too severe.”
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I get amused by attending auctions that have to sell a lot of what I call “junk.”
However, an auctioneer never sees a piece of junk. Here’s an example of how his chant goes: “All it needs is just a little work, boys, and she’ll be good as new. What am I bid? $250, $200, $150? Okay, I’ll let you all in. I heard $20! Boys, boys, you’re missing the boat here. We’re givin’ this thing away.”
The “thing” finally sells for $37.50. Guess the auctioneer saw something in it that nobody else saw. But then, as the new owner, he’ll just sell it at his next auction of “junk.”
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Bird hunting season is just around the corner. My fishing buddy, ‘ol Castin Crankitt, swears this bird dog story is true. The German shorthair hunted long and hard all afternoon, to no avail, because birds were scarce.
When Castin and the dog’s owner got close to the pickup to end the hunt, the pointer went on a strong point in a clump of grass in the road ditch.
The owner urged his dog to “get it, boy,” and the dog jumped in, stuck its nose deep in the grass and pulled out a full, unopened can of Coors light beer, and retrieved it to its owner.
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Words of wisdom for the week: “The best learning retention rate comes from the School of Hard Knocks.” Have a good ‘un.
