Al Batt: Frowning means exercise
Published 8:57 am Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting:
It takes 43 muscles to frown and only 17 to smile.
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Yes. So why are you frowning?
I need the exercise.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: it isn’t a small town if it has a McDonald’s.
A candle’s flame smells like burned nose hairs.
A squirrel is a tree hugger.
Not to pay as I go until I’ve paid for where I’ve been.
The news from Hartland
Bump Whistlebritches loses his driver’s license for listening to the same Kenny G CD in his car for the past six years.
Conan the Barber reminds customers to remove their hats before sitting in the chair.
Student complains that the Art appreciation class taught by Art Johnson has no purpose other than giving Art the chance to brag.
“Are zebras related to horses?” Yes, a zebra is a black horse with Venetian blinds.
“Who’d want to live to be 100?” Ask me the same question when you are 99.
“Is a fish considered a success if it’s able to keep its head below water?” Yes, but it’s all a matter of scale.
“Who lives the longest?” A rich relative.
An excursion to Emmetsburg
I visited Emmetsburg to gather with cousins. Work assignments had dictated a meandering route, with more cones on the roads than at a Dairy Queen. I arrived early, so I went for a walk along Five Island Lake. It was a beautiful day, butterflies fluttered by. I encountered a young fellow walking two dogs on leashes. All three appeared friendly. One dog was large, the size of a Rottweiler. The other was tiny, like a Yorkshire terrier. The big dog barked once. The auxiliary dog yapped in support. A woofer and a subwoofer, I supposed.
I came across a coffee-flavored doughnut recently. That’s nothing new. When I was a whippersnapper, I dunked cake doughnuts into my father’s cups of coffee often. I don’t drink coffee, but I have pleasant recollections of my doughnut-dunking days. The coffee-flavored doughnut caused me to wander over acres of memories.
I recall working and being a tourist in England. I had high tea at a posh hotel. I like tea. The cup came with scones and a sandwich the size of a quarter. It was one of those sandwiches in which they had forgotten to put a sandwich in. It had a cucumber slice in it. I don’t think you can get those at McDonald’s.
I considered dunking it in my tea.
You can’t have too many friends
Joel DeNeui of Blue Earth referred to someone as his distant friend-in-law. That’s a great term for a friend of a friend.
A woman told me that she’d just seen a “hi bye friend.” That describes a person she’d say “hi” and “bye” to, but little more.
The neighbor was a full-time pastor and a part-time farmer. He studied the Bible as he did his farm chores. One day, he lost the Bible somewhere on his farm. It wasn’t just a Bible. It was his confirmation Bible. He fretted. He stewed. He prayed for its return. One day, a neighbor’s cow walked up with the Bible in her mouth. The pastor was gobsmacked.
“It’s a miracle!” he cried.
“Not really,” said the cow. “Your name was in it.”
Ric McArthur of Morpeth, Ontario writes, “I don’t always remember what I had for lunch the day before. I always have the same thing for breakfast. That way I can remember something from yesterday.”
Alan McBride of Preston, England, sends this, “Cashew: the sound of a nut sneezing.”