I well remember when food for Farm-Animals (called Hay’), was cut with a Mule- Powered, Sickle-Bar Mower, and raked with a Hay Rake.’ The Hay was then stacked around a tall pole, simply called a Haystack,’ to dry or cure.  Hay was a necessity for food for Horses and Mules as well as Cattle in the days before farming became mechanized.

When cured, it was either stored in the barn loft or left in stacks in a pasture where the animals could feed at will.  Since I was, more or less a youngster, I was usually not allowed to ride any dangerous machine; but I did have experience riding a hay rake.’

The curved tines of the hay rake were connected to a handle within reach of the rider / operator.’   When the tines had collected a sufficient amount of hay, the operator raised the tines and dumped the hay into wind-rows.’

A Horse or Mule drawn wagon was driven alongside the wind-rows where other workers collected the hay with pitch-forks,’ and loaded it into a wagon for transport to the haystack’ where it would be wound tightly around the pole.  If enough time had elapsed between cutting and stacking; some cured hay would be hauled directly to the barn loft.

The chore of Haying’ usually transpired between the times of laying-by’ the other field crops and the ‘gathering’ season.  Ideal weather for this operation was hot dry days with abundant Sunshine.  The hard work and dust from the hay made life miserable for the workers; but as with other field work, it was necessary.  No one ever claimed that farming was easy.   In most cases, it was simply a way of life.’

Modern air-conditioned equipment of today can complete most of  the above operations; and dump the tied bales in one mighty sweep.  This method only requires one operator.

‘Hay-Stacking’ is not necessary today since the ‘hay’ is baled, in either square or round bundles, that are dropped in the field.  It is then hauled with ‘air-conditioned trucks’ and/or trailers to be stored somewhere under shelter from the elements, and is located near to the Barnyard.

I have to admit that I sometime smile when I hear a farmer of today complain about the hard work of Haying.’  With first hand knowledge of this job in my past; I really cannot feel sympathy for them.

I was fortunate during my youth that I was not subjected to the hundreds of acres of Hay that some farmers raise today.  Our small farm provided enough of this back-breaking work to feed our animals, (and to ‘do me’ for a lifetime).

Of course,  Back then; I complained along with the best of them.


As far as I am concerned, the good old days’ are NOW!   Dj.


I have been asked repeatedly, just how “Bear” has come to be so smart.  It’s simple. He observes the entire world around him and learns from different aspects of the technological devices provided for him by his humans.

Although he has yet to learn to read, he nevertheless understands that we have insisted upon his exposure to programs such as The Animal Channel and various other programs offered by the medium of Television.

His indoctrination began at the early age of one year.  While sitting in his human’s lap and having his belly scratched; his attention would be drawn to the antics of different species of animals cavorting on the small screen; positioned in front of his human’s favorite recliner.  I suppose his preferences are western movies with lots of horses and cattle.

As yet; he has not figured out where they go when they leave the tiny screen.  In instances such as this, he will diligently search the area around, below and in back of the television set, until he is satisfied they are not there and then he will cast a quizzical eye toward the nearest human to inquire, “where?”

His present vocabulary is limited to the words pee, pookie, ridey-ridey, milk-bones, din-din, and bed-time; all of which he vocalizes with astonishing regularity.

“Pee” and “Pookie” are his first words each morning immediately after arising, followed by “Din-Din.”  Then a mighty leap propels the 15 pound ball of silver fur into the lap of anyone sitting; to be scratched.

An extended nap is now taken until the noon hour brings another burst of talk. Here is when the moist, black eyes begin to sparkle as he positions himself directly in front of the human that he feels is more susceptible to his demands to be carried outside to attend to his noon-time toilet.

Ignoring the soulful hints this time; will bring about, first a low growl, and then a nosing of the nearest item of furniture. If this does not get the attention of a human, a series of shrill barks accompanied by sharp claws, raking across their  legs.  From “poodle-ese,” this action is interrupted as meaning;  “Get Up, Dammit!!”

Quiet rest is the order of the day following the noon hour trip, until exactly 2:30 P.M.  At this time, his biological clock demands another dose of “Ole Roy;”  (the “Din-Din” of champions).”

After consuming his evening meal, he retires to his favorite blanket for a period of rest before bedtime.  If the “young’un” ever learns to spell, both me and “Mama” will definitely be in deep crap; since we are required to spell anything that we do not want him to understand.

Now, fast forward for another fifteen years.  He does not like to wear his glasses.  Neither has he figured how to increase the volume of his hearing aide. He simply ignores everything around him until he detects the aroma, and the location, of food.

He has learned that, if he forgets; his humans will chase him down when it’s time for his ‘toilet break,’  or else they will awaken him at din-din”  time.  However, he has made it abundantly clear that he will not “willingly” go to the “Poodle-Nursing-Home!”


It seems that, ‘while Petey learned all of  this from his humans;  Th’ Bear was definitely ‘born with these abilities.’     Dj.

Coming Up A Cloud!

When I was but a youngster, folks were concerned about ‘not messing around’ with nature. If there was a possibility that threatening weather was approaching, the children as well as the adults were required to wash their feet and lie down on the bed until the storm passed.

I’m not sure why lying in bed would help. If the storm was severe enough to wreak havoc, I personally don’t think that a bed offered significant protection; but as with all children of my time, I obeyed. I cannot remember being frightened during a thunderstorm; but I still wonder if washing my feet was the answer to survival.

Children as well as many adults conserved shoe leather by going barefoot during the warm, summer months. Perhaps the cleansing of the feet was more to prevent ‘messing up’ the beds than having anything to do with protection from the elements. In those day, washing the bed linens required more effort than to merely toss them into a machine and push a button.

If, by chance, the storm was looming while work in the fields was being performed, a careful scrutiny of the direction from where the clouds were approaching, ‘by Daddy,’ was the first line of protection.  He, then would make the decision to, “Keep on working. It’ll blow over.” Or, “Let’s get to the house. That’s the direction all our rain comes from.”

If the season had been dry and the crops had not yet matured, the rain was welcomed, but if rainstorms prevented the gathering of the harvest, the results were sometimes critical.  Drought during the growing months; and storms during the harvest season; could possibly mean the difference between feast and famine.

If the crops failed, there was a strong possibility that the family would be required to suppress their pride and rely on government dispensed, “Commodities” for their subsistence.

There were, however, never-ending chores, which could be completed on rainy days.  Jobs that had been neglected during the frenzied periods of raising and gathering the crops were tackled during “wet weather.” This still allowed time and energy to be used for the substance of life that the average depended on.

Examples are; mending harnesses, repairing or sharpening implements, shucking and shelling corn, carrying corn to ‘The Mill’, to be ground into ‘Cornmeal’ or ‘Grits.

Other farm duties could be performed inside the Barn or Workshop, without being exposed to the inclement weather.

It was seldom that children were asked to perform these maintenance chores due to lack of knowledge in the area of ‘making do’ with whatever supplies were obtainable; therefore, children welcomed rainy days simply because they were then left to their own designs for entertainment.

If television, computers, video games, cellular telephones and the like had even been available for purchase during this period; they would have been acclaimed as “throwing away good money,” on something that was not needed.

One favorite pastime for children during this era was building roads in the soft sand under the open, elevated floor of the house.  Underpinning a house was considered a waste of materials; and was something only ‘town folks’ did.

The creation of roads, under the house, were activities that could be perused if the weather was not too severe. The “gentler sex” would sometimes, accompany the boys in this amusement by using stones and sticks to outline their “playhouses” alongside the sandy roads.

Loud shouts could be heard over the sounds of rain pounding on the tin roof; if an occasional car rolled into the ‘living room’ or ‘kitchen’ of these make-believe homes. This was sure to bring about admonishment from the parents in the form of, “Y’all hush that hullaballoo, ya’hear?”

Although the children were indulging in their ‘homemade’ entertainment and were not underfoot, only so much of the shrieks were tolerated by the parents before the cry would be raised, “You Young’uns; wash your feet and get in the bed.” “They’s a’coming up a cloud.”



Nothing is more demeaning than to have someone laugh ‘at you.’  Whether it be something you are wearing, the way you walk or talk, anything.  It has probably happened to all of us at one time or another.

There are very ‘few’ individuals that have ‘nothing’ that appears funny to another person; and laughing ‘WITH’  them about it is sometimes a form of therapy; but to laugh AT”  them, is the crudest form of humiliation.  Let’s face it; there are one or two things about all of us’ that would cause a snicker, if we were standing in their shoes.

Suppose everyone was perfect.  It might be somewhat hard to find enough to laugh about, and we would go through our lives and not experience the values of mirth.  This would make for a gloomy world indeed.  The muscles in our faces would never be exercised and we would simply ‘shrivel-up.’

Laughing WITH” others requires an effort on our part.  We begin by being willing to laugh at ourselves at the same time.  If we will only look, we can find something equally funny about our ‘own mannerisms,’ or our looks, that we could share, and have a good laugh together. This will provide a period of enjoyment for both, and neither gets their feelings hurt.

It has been said that laughter is good medicine.  I believe this; but it should not be at anther’s expense.  Shared’  laughter is one of the more benevolent forms of flattery, and is not restricted to any individual.  When used correctly, it can create a bond between two or more persons that can last a lifetime.

We can laugh at different lifestyles, different schools of thought, differences of opinions, and hundreds of other things that make up our complicated beings.  When these things are shared, then we begin to laugh WITH” each other.

Why not give it a try?  What have we got to lose?  If it works, then we will be able to exercise our facial muscles, our good feelings about ourselves will remain intact and we can enjoy being with others, with a clear knowledge that neither will be hurt by being laughed “AT”.

Who knows, we might just learn to ‘like it’ and in the process, we could become much happier ourselves.  Most of the time; we could use these feelings.


Definition, from Dj.:   “BERNADETTE:”   “The act of torching’ a Mortgage.”

Claim to Fame

Would it not be good if everyone could leave a legacy for future generations that would be beneficial to all people?  Sadly, most of us have neither the ability nor the inclination to strive toward a goal of this magnitude.  The dreams of fame and fortune that we all experienced during the days of our youth fade quite rapidly when we are faced with the trials and tribulations of the real world.

We quickly discover that these dreams require more effort on our part than we are willing to expend; therefore, we set aside these aspirations in favor of our daily struggles and adopt an attitude of “whatever will be, will be.”

Fortunately, there are some who are determined to transform their dreams into reality and somehow manage to overcome all obstacles to achieve their ambitions.  From this category emerge the true leaders and the heroes of our society.  To these few, we owe a debt of gratitude for making our world a little better.

However, there are those in our midst who feel that they deserve the recognition simply because of their selfish desire to become famous, although they neither possess the ability nor the necessary qualifications.

Their perspective is, “Hey, look at me! I’m Mr. / Ms. So and So and I merit your esteem.”  All too often these people are elevated to a leadership position and the results are usually chaotic.

Such was the case with a lady with whom I worked for several years.  From day one she expressed her determination to become a part of management: In her own words – “At whatever the cost.” Not only did she alienate her co-workers, she was so adamant in her ambition that the public became leery of her.

Whatever her tactics were, she was eventually promoted to a position of supervisor.  It was here when she became insufferable.  Her demeanor changed completely and she began to think of herself as God’s gift to the business world.  She even went so far as to refer to her fellow employees as “My People” and the business as a whole as “My Business.”

Whatever inspired this arrogance eventually began to take its toll and her health began to deteriorate.  She seemed to be constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  It was apparent she had become disillusioned with her only claim to fame.

Shortly after my retirement I returned for a short visit with my friends.  The lady of whom I speak was absent.  When I asked about her, I was told that she had given up her promotion and was working in another office as a part-time employee.  The reason given was failing health, due to stress.

This serves only as proof that there are people with qualifications and there are people with ambition.  If the two are not intertwined, then failure is the usual result.  Experience can sometimes be substituted for qualification. However,  ambition alone, and without a willingness to exert every effort to meet the requirements of the job, is no reason for anyone to think that they deserve it simply because they want it.

I feel that it would be appropriate to mention that I, as of last week, am on the verge of my only claim to fame.  I received an important letter that announced that “I;”  (insignificant little old me), am number one (1) on the list to receive $11, 000, 000. 00 from a business that I have never been affiliated with; ‘Publishers Clearing House.’


To prove that I am worthy of their faith in me, I fully intend to purchase a subscription for every magazine in their arsenal of gummed stickers to show my appreciation; Just as soon as my first check arrives.”       Dj.

Our Younger Days.

“T. B.” or not “T. B:” –  “That is “Congestion.” - “Consumption” - be done about it?”

This was a phrase that every youngster seemed to be saying when I was in elementary school.  Our underdeveloped minds were in the process of finding something funny in everything that we did, read, or simply, ‘just observed.’

The Classics, meant nothing to us at this time in our lives.  We were more interested in playing baseball, shooting marbles, and roaming the woods in search of perfect prongs’ for Slingshots, to be bogged down with a dull book.

Our ideas of good’  literature were the Big Little Books that depicted Dick Tracy, Tom Mix, or Jungle Jim’s adventures.  We could spend hours in our tree house’s, absorbing every word of these suspenseful works and even went so far as to emulate many of them.

For instance:  One day I would be Tom Mix; and would prevent the bad guys from foreclosing on the ranch of the beautiful damsel. The next day I might become one of the gangsters who was trying to do-in, ‘Detective Tracy.’

Most of us considered it unmanly’ to be assigned homework that consisted of reading a novel that was, for the most part, romantic.  We were He-Men’ who made our livings protecting the underdogs.  Our calling in life was that of being at the right place at just the right time.  We were the only hope for the oppressed and we were extremely proud of it.

The safety of the world depended on our actions.  Romance was for ‘Girls’ and ‘Wimps.’  After all; It was clear to us that Roy Rogers” would rather kiss his horse?

We even went so far as forming clubs for ‘boys, only.’   Exclusion of anyone of the opposite gender was mandatory.  We neither solicited nor accepted females; “Period!.”  If you could not fight the Nazis; or if you did not wear a Six Shooter, you need not apply.

Then, one day, our outlook changed.  We began to notice that the female of the species was not something to be shunned.  Rather, they were somewhat unique in their ability to cause our hearts to beat faster.

Amazingly, right under our noses; this spindle-legged larva’ had suddenly turned into a beautiful Butterfly.

Things were suddenly not so important that Detective Tracy could not get along without us; and at this point in our lives, we did not really care if the foreclosure of The Ranch took place as planned.

This turning point in our lives was nothing more than growing up:  But we saw it as a major event.  Slingshots and Cap-Pistols were traded for items that we felt would impress our new-found, human-interests.’  The clubs that we were once so proud of were now, more or less abandoned, since our thoughts were channeled in another direction.

‘Our way of putting things’ changed along with our attitudes toward Girls.  Instead of making a mockery of the Classics, we sought to quote them, in hopes of impressing our chosen one, in the fact that we had CLASS.”

As the divine plans unfolded, we succeeded in impressing the one that was to become our intended’ and merely let nature take its course.  As a result, we became one with “Her;” and our lives were enriched.  A bonus was added in the form of children and a happy home.

When we reflect on the past, it seems impossible that we could have placed so much importance on a spoof” of Shakespeare’s writings.  Add to this, the fact that we can hardly remember who Tom Mix’ or Roy Rogers’ was.

It had taken a while;  But we had finally found our purpose in life.


I’m not really old enough to know everything;  just, “Almost Everything.”    Dj.

“F” Means Fine.

Bubba had recently moved into the “City;” from the other side of the mountains, where he had lived since he was a child.  One of his first duties was to enroll “Bubba, Jr; (who had just turned 14 years old), into the third grade at “Pan-Handle, Elementary School.”

His pickup was easily identified by the ‘four-foot Level'; in the top ‘Gun rack’, and the ‘30.06 Rifle’ in the bottom rack. also, the Bumper-Sticker that reads, “Hell No; I ain’t forgetting!”

In the bed of the truck, numerous oil cans, several Miller Genuine Draft cans, and a bird-dog cage, rattled as the truck ground to a stop at the front door of the school.

Bubba cautioned Junior to remove his “Cat-Diesel” cap when he entered the classroom, and to carry a Coca Cola bottle with him; to use if he felt the need to chew his “Red Man” chewing tobacco, ‘while in class.’

Mrs. Hoy-Pa-Loy, ‘the third grade teacher;’ immediately wanted to know how proficient Junior was.  She questioned him on what he had learned at his former school.  Junior grinned real big, when he replied;  “I can count to five.”  he said.

Mrs. Hoy-Pa-loy, handed him a sheet of paper and asked that he write these numbers, and Junior swelled with pride as he wrote;  “Ron – Regulator,”  “Rusty – Fender,”  “Dude – Driveshaft,”  “Speedy – Simpson,”  and “Hott – Sparkplug.”   Mrs. Hoy-Pa-Loy, was somewhat shocked, and declared that Junior would receive an “F” for his efforts.

When Bubba arrived at the school to pick up his son, he asked Junior how his first day at the new school had gone, and Junior proudly repeated what he had written for Mrs. Hoy-Pa-Loy.  Then he added:  “I made ‘FINE’ on my first paper.”

Bubba became distraught when Junior repeated what he had written and said; “You dumb-ass!  I done told you a hunret & fifty times, that “Hott –  Sparkplug” comes atter “Terry – Fanbelt” an’ ‘fore “Jeff – Luggnut.”

“That thare teacher mus’ be mos’ dumb as you; iff’en she done went an’ give you a FINE instead uv a “D.”

As punishment, Bubba would not allow Junior to carry his .38-special, to school for a week; or until he had memorized the entire NASSCARR lineup.

To quote Bubba; “You gotta be tough on younguns, this day an’ time; jus lack my Daddy done me; ‘er else they ain’t gon’ learn nuthin.”

Respectfully, submitted; “As proof that ‘humor’ can be found in any situation, when slight changes are made.”  “No reflection on any persons and/or sports, is intended.”


Note:  References for this post was compiled from the pages of “LAUGHTER FOR  DUMMIES.”      Dj.


Years ago, when Radio was in it’s infancy, every station had it’s own band of “Local Yokels” broadcasting songs like; “You went away and left me dear; but I’ll try to get you back somehow,”   “Cabin in the Mountains,” or “I’m crying myself to sleep over you.” 

Most of these programs were usually sponsored by local merchants or over the counter, patented medicines and health & beauty aides.

“W.B.T.”  in Charlotte, North Carolina, was no different.  Beginning as an A.M. Radio Station and later, a powerful Television Channel; it employed several  announcers to introduce the groups to the listening audiences and to advertise the sponsor’s products.  One of the favorite announcers at W.B.T. was the late Charles Crutchfield; who eventually became General Manager of the popular Radio / TV Station.

Among the many such sponsors was a hair-coloring product for men, with the name of COLOR-BACK.’  When the time, during the broadcast, came for, “We’ll be back, after this word from our sponsor;”  Mr. Crutchfield began praising the products that were ‘paying the bills.’

He was the first announcer to coin the words, “COLOR-HYPHEN-BACK” to describe the wonderful benefits of this product, as an aide for men to wrestle with the aging process.

Folks within the vast reaches of the station awaited breathlessly for the words; “Y’all know what time it is?”  “IT’S BRIARHOPPER TIME!;” and later on;  a Telephone would ring and the voice of  Jim Patterson” would answer with; “Who’s calling, please?”  –  “Carolina calling?”  –  “Put’em on!”

Most members of THE BRIARHOPPERS” have long since retired from broadcasting as a group; but I understand that a few of them are still “picking & singing,” and I suppose grinning.  I, personally, had the privilege of later, working along with two of the former entertainers of this popular group.

The one T.V. program, “CAROLINA CALLING,” that  originated by, and starred, ARTHUR SMITH and THE CRACKERJACKS,” was still being broadcast by one of the Public Broadcasting Television Stations in Charlotte for many years.  However, it was with a reduced cast due to the demise of some of the original members; and the facts that a few of these entertainers, had sought different careers.

Most of P. B. S. programs are Sponsor Free; but many of us old ‘geezers’‘ can still almost hear the voice of Charles Crutchfield; telling us about that ‘innovative product’ called “COLOR-HYPHEN-BACK;” and informing us that the use of it will keep us feeling young forever.

Incidentally:  One of the last of the “Old Timers,” who entertained for so many years on Radio Station WBT; and WBTV, passed away in 2014.  An icon in the area of Country Music; “Arthur Smith,”  is now serenading Angels with his original creation of  “Guitar Boogie.” 


A very popular ‘parlor-game’ for the young, ‘back when;’  was “Musical Chairs.”   Now; fast forward, to the days when many of us who are, “2 years Older Than Dirt;” are attempting to entertain ourselves with a similar game.

Fearing infringement on possible Copyrights; we elected to change the name of the game slightly.  The rules remained the same; but due to our fragile, overworked, bodies; the name should now be referred to as;  “Musical Recliners.”    Dj.

Are You Sure?

Nothing annoys me more than to relate something of which I have carefully researched and determined to be accurate, and then have the recipient ask, “Are You Sure?”  If there was doubt, the research and determination was available to them as well.

Why question the statement without prior knowledge of the subject?  Does this give them a feeling of superiority?  Most of us do not address an issue without some awareness of the accuracy of our assertion.  Yet, there are the ones who insist on challenge as a way of injecting their own thoughts into whatever is being discussed.

Perhaps insecurity could possibly describe these individuals.  By asserting doubt in the accuracy, they conceal the fact that they are dubious as to their own understanding.

This is a technique, when employed appropriately, will tend to avert attention to their inabilities while at the same time sow seeds of doubt in our recounting of the issue.

Another tactic employed by these people is the reciting of, “I know a friend who…”  This particular person can do anything better, can purchase cheaper, and is more knowledgeable on any and all subjects.  In most instances, however, ‘his name is never mentioned.’

At times we wonder if he is indeed real or is he a fabrication supplied to prove a point.  Skepticism of this person’s proficiency only enhances the misconception that we are unenlightened if we suspect any misrepresentation.

I suppose that the only way to suppress these individuals is in allowing them the freedom to voice their own condescending opinion on all subjects, and then to continue with our own concepts of the way things should or should not be.

By implementing these methods, they are convinced that they have influenced us sufficiently to guarantee that the next time a problem arises, we will search them out for advice.

“The first pair of shoes that I tried on, fit my feet perfectly.”

“Are you sure?”   “I have a friend who…”


My Brother called, and asked how to pull up my Blog from his computer.  I told him to use the Curser,’  then to “right click,” the icon, on the desk top.  He replied…, “I cursed it and then I wrote “click;” but nothing happened.”

He ain’t been right since.      Dj.

Famous Sayin’s.

I grew up in a small Town in the early 1930’s.  The town was so small that “First Street,”  was the only street; and was noted on the State Road Map as Highway 34.”  The Filling Station and the Liquor Store were the main businesses since “The Axe-Handle Factory,”  closed down; just after the War;    (‘the big’un’), that is.

Try as I might; I cannot remember all of the ‘Unique Sayings,’ that perpetrated from the shrine, called; “The Sons of Rest”  bench; that was located under the shelter of the Filling Station.  It was also here that most of the Town’s ‘Official Business,’ was conducted.

The Bench,’ was off-limits from 10:00, a.m. to 1:00, p.m. for anyone with the exception of “The Town Fathers;”  (a gathering of men, age 60 years or more).   

On any given day, when an audience was in attendance; they were usually seated on upturned soft-drink crates, or simple sitting on the cement curb around the gasoline pumps.

As stated above; I cannot remember all the profound sayings; but with the help of “Bo Whaley,”  “Ludlow Porch,”  & the late, “Lewis Gizzard;  I will attempt to narrate as many as I can recall.  Listed below are sayings; as described by “The Town Fathers, and / or The Local Gender.

“That Boy of Buck’s, has done an’ got ‘Uppity,’ since he ‘got on’  at The Fertilizer Factory!”

“Bessie Lee’s so ugly; she’d ‘make a ‘Rat turn loose a hunk’a Cheese!”

“Ma was ‘stiff as a board;’ after she got done with the washin’ and arnin’!”

That young’un’s the ‘spittin’ image’ of his Gram’pa!

“Jethro didn’t get hurt in that wreck;  ’cause he’s ‘tough as a ‘lightered knot.”

“If your plowin’ ain’t done just right; I’m goin’a ‘raise sand!”

“Did Bubba write that song?”  “You’re freakin’ A;”  “He wrote a whole ‘baccer-sheet’ full uv’em.”  The latest one was, “Twelve bottles of four-roses, makes a dozen.”  

“Billy-Bob done went an’ got ‘hisself  farred’ at th’ Pig & Whistle, ’cause he ain’t ‘no-count, nohow.”

“Your Hoe-Cake is ‘better’n Snuff, an’ ain’t half as dusty!”

“Yesterday; I were ‘sick as a dog; but today; I’m ‘Fair-to-Middlin.”

“Do you think Nezzie Faye’s got salvation?”  “Yeah: She’s got it in her leff hip.”

“Shoot Fire:  I can run a heap faster’n, that old A-Model you’ve got.”   

I won’t say that the Town is the smallest, in the State; but both the city-limit sign’s are on the same post; and everybody loves the Mayor, the Barber, the Preacher, the School Principal, and the Policeman; all of whom, are one and the same person.

The Town Drunk’  has a reserved seat beside the ‘Hi-Test,’ Gas-Pump; so as; he will not be too far from The Liquor Store;” and re-replenishment, of his liquid self-reliance.

He is ‘not’ considered a genuine ‘Son of Rest;’ but rather, he is kept close; just in case he is ‘called-on’ to be a witness, if there was an altercation between a ‘long-winded tale;’ and “The Speaker of The Bench.” 


Of course, in the event that he would be called to testify; he would surely vote in favor of decisions made by official members of “The Bench.” You know:  “Scratch my Back, & I’ll scratch Your’n!”      Dj.