Laugh tracks in the dust


        My sister-in-law, ol’ Nevah’s twin sister, has an energetic little rat terrier pup, that she and her hubby, ol’ Charl Lay, keep in the house. Since they’ve owned the pup, it’s broken both a paw and a leg in separate accidents, but it’s overcome both injuries and still is a bundle of energy.

Recently, one evening they let the pup outside to do its duty, and a few minutes later when it barked and wanted back inside the house, Charl opened the door and almost instantaneously the pup dashed inside, leaped on my sister-in-law’s lap while the wuz sitting in her easy chair and proudly deposited a very dead, very ripe pigeon into her lap.

I wish I’d been there to see her reaction, but I’d bet it would have made for a very funny YouTube video.


While I’m on the subject of dead critters, one evening this week when I got home after dark after a pointless hour of sitting in one of my deer stands, I drove my UTV to the chicken house to gather the eggs and put feed out for the hens’ next-morning breakfast.

But when I flipped on the light switch, WHOA, inside the chicken house I spied a possum trying to hide in a dark corner. Well, I couldn’t leave the critter to help itself to chicken dinner all night, so I retrieved my rifle and bird shot and humanely dispatched it.

Then I gathered the eggs, but as I was putting out the feed, WHOA, another possum scurried out from under the nest boxes. Same story, second scene.

I’m rather tolerant of predators that leave my stuff alone, but those that sneak in to help themselves have got to pay the price.


In preparation for the deer season, I took a collection of my knives to my neighbor, ol’ Honem Sharpe, to have him put a butchering edge on them. He’s much better at that job than I am.

When I picked up the knives and admired their sharpness, Honem got a glint in his eye and said, “My family always said that a knife should be as sharp as a mother-in-law’s tongue.”


A retired farmer friend of mine, ol’ Picken Strum, plays the banjo and guitar. Since his retirement, Picken volunteers to entertain patients in elder care facilities.

Recently, he went to a local facility and took his instruments along to entertain the oldsters. To add a little color, Picken told some jokes and sang some funny songs in the facilities commons area.

When he finished, he said in farewell, “I hope you get better soon.”

One elderly lady replied, “I hope you get better, too, and soon.”


                Okay, it’s time for another Ole joke. It was raining hard and a big puddle had formed in front of Ole’s favorite Brainerd, Minn., pub.

As he prepared to enter, he saw an old man standing beside the puddle holding a stick with a string on the end and jiggling it up and down in the water.

Curious, Ole approached the old gentleman asked what he was doing.

“Fishing,’ replied the old man.

“Poor old fool,” Ole thought, so he invited the old man into the pub to buy him a drink.

Feeling he should start some conversation while they were sipping their Schell’s beer, Ole asked, “So how many fish have you caught this evening?”

“You’re the eighth,” the old gentleman grinned as he downed his mug and headed back outside.


A middle-aged farmer takes the wife to a holiday dance. Along towards 11 o’clock, the farmer is yawning and overly bored and clearly would like to go home.

But, after the intermission, the band cranks up and the well-lubricated folks in the crowd start packing the dance floor.

Soon, everyone’s attention focuses on a guy on the dance floor living it large.  He break dances, moon walks, does the Charleston, and the twist. Finally, sweating and near exhaustion, the guy yells, “Free drinks for everyone in the house.”

The farmer’s wife turns to her husband and says, “See that guy? Would you believe that 25 years ago he proposed to me and I turned him down.”

Her bored hubby replies, “Looks like he’s still celebrating!”


A young rural rake is heading home from a holiday party and taking great care to drive the speed limit lest he attract the attention of the highway patrol. Car after car passes him on the road, so the guy speeds up.

Suddenly, in the rear view mirror, he sees the flashing lights of a police cruiser behind him. He pulls over, and rolls down the window. The patrolman walks up and asks him, “Do you know why I stopped you?”

The young rake replies sarcastically, “Guess I was the only slow enough for you to catch!”

No, replies the officer, you’ve got a burned out tail light.”


How’s this for column-ending wisdom: The ancient philosopher Socrates said, “The only true wisdom is knowing that you know nothing.” That fits me to a T. Have a good ‘un.


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