Webster’s dictionary contains thousands of words which old Noah himself was not completely sure of the correct definition. This article is intended to dispel any inaccuracy, therefore, preventing your “skinning your ignorance” when the occasion arises where you have a need to impress someone.

Append; Webster defines this word as, to attach or affix. Now, everybody knows that this is totally incorrect. It is the rear-most part of the body of a large gorilla. The part that he sits on.
Broadaxe: A weapon or a tool to hew timber? Wrong again. This is a question, covering a wide variety of subjects and is usually axed by a “good ole boy.”
Calcium: Silver-white chemical, found in limestone, right? No. No. Cal; is the fellow who observed Corry Mae Poovey and Wadlow Jarvis making love on the fodder.
Defeat: Certainly not. To win victory over; or overcome. Simply put, dis is the part of the body dat de shoes go on.
Ether: Commonly designated as a sleep producing agent but those of us with superior intelligence are aware that; “Ether you pay me that dollar or I’ll whup you.”
Futile: Useless, vain, and hopeless? Ugh-ugh. Correct usage; Futile your kitchen and not the hall, you’ll have a mess in wet weather.
Gentile: Mr. Webster says; any person, not a Jew. Right interpretation; Flooring removed from the cotton gin and used in the kitchen or hall.
Handbill: In the book, it states; small printed notice, advertisement. Precisely put; “’Hand-Bill’ that Hammer so he can nail them Shingles down.”
Indicate: to direct attention to? The right way; “Billy Joe broke his hand when he got it caught in-de-cate.”
Juncture: a point or line of joining? Another Boo-Boo. TO quote. “Bobby Frank tol me that you juncture car atter you wrecked hit.”
Kickapoo: Noah says, a tribe of Indians. I say, “If you sass me jus’ one more time, I’ll haul off an’ ‘kick a poo’ outten you.”
Locale: Incorrect definition, a place of locality: Proper usage; a fitting greeting for former race car driver, Yarborough, you know, “Lo Cale.”
Mater: Definitely not, the mother, as depicted in the dictionary. It is a red fruit produced by mater ‘vines.
Nairn: I will not doubt that this was a county in Scotland; however the correct definition is; “How come you got two co-colers an’ I ain’t got Nairn.”
Outwit: to overcome by cunning? Totally wrong; exact pronunciation; “Joe Lee went inta’ that poker game wiff two dollars an’ come ‘outwit’ seben.”
Petty cash: money for incidental expenses? No, No; The amount of winnings derived from the NASCAR circuit by driver Richard.
Quotient: Certainly not, the result obtained when a number is divided by another; Literal usage refers to, “I run that “quotient” light an’ got me a ticket.”
Reply: Here is another of old Noah’s mistakes. He indicates that this means to answer or respond. Everybody knows that this is what you do when your plywood rots.
Screen test: Testing suitability as a movie star? Hail no! It’s simply determining if a fly can get through the mesh covering your window.
Teleplay: Not a written account of a television play: Used mostly by coaches in the game of football, i.e. “Teleplay to that dumb-ass quarterback an’ he forgets it.”
Unpolled: You would think that Webster would know that this does not mean, not canvassed in a poll. It means that the boat merely sat there, npolled’.
Vaccine: The stuff in a shot? Definitely not; IT’s what Bubba call the waitress at the diner because he pronounces an”M” like a “V”.
Wet Bar: Once again, incorrect; It’sNot a serving counter for drinks “They ain’t nothin’ slicker’n a’ wet bar’ of soap.”
X/Ray: Not a photograph of the bones in ones body; “Stella is like a different person since she divorced her X-Ray.”
Yam: Surely everyone knows that this in not a ‘tater. This is dialogue used by cartoon character “Popeye”, i.e. “I ‘yam’ what I ‘yam’.”
Zeal: Noah’s book says intense enthusiasm; Not so This is one of them animals that live in the cold waters near the north pole.
I sincerely hope that you have learned something….

QUESTION??? “How many garments must a person take off before they are considered;” “AS NAKED AS A JO-REE???” Dj.

Susie Mae Speaks

I’se been atter Jay Henry, honey, fer th’ longist time to run some juice up to th’ loft so’s I can put me some candles in th’ winders. Miss Mazie, she tolt me that some uv them hi-fo-luten Town folks puts them little tee-winey ‘lectric candles in they winders ’cause they looks so homely an’ all. She sez that whenst folks cross th’ foot log and see our’n shack, they’ll purely “ooh an’ ahh” an’ thank we’s “done well.”

Well’sr, yestiddy morning, me an’ th’ Bear wuz still asleep, and all uv a sudd’n, I ain’t never hyeard such a fuss as wuz a’coming frum up in th’ loft. Hit were Jay Henry, honey, whot had done clumb th’ ladder an’ were up thare wiff a claw hammer, jus’ bangin’ ’round ta beat th’ band. Hit were so bad that I had to git up an’ hit were way ‘fore dinnertime.

Bout 12:35, he clumb down th’ ladder, an’ ses to me, he sez, “Susie Mae, I’se done worked mysef to deff and got all that thare wire hung on them rafters so you’ns can put them thare lights in th’ winders an’ ‘run up th’ light bill.”

Well’sr, I jus went an’ tolt him, I sez, “Jay Henry, honey, Iffen yo’ check ain’t enuff to pay th’ light bill, we’s always got my aig money an’ we’uns can pull hit outten th’ fruit jar an’ pay hit. ‘Sides, hit’ll be wuth hit whenst folks come ‘cross th’ creek an’ looks at our’n shack an’ then go,

“Law – Law,” “Ain’t them folks th’ homeliest folks you’s ever seed?”
Bye, now.

Susie Mae

Fust uv’ th’ Month

Th’ Hollow, N.C.
Dear Y’all:
You will note that I am writing this slow ’cause I know that y’all can’t read fast. I thought about sending you our address, but the folks who lived here before us took the numbers off the house so they wouldn’t have to change their address, and we’re not sure where we live.

It really don’t matter ’cause Susie Mae read in the paper, that most accidents happen within twenty miles of home so we’re going to move anyway, just to be sure. She said that Lola Lee tolt her they’s a vacant house over in Wexford; an’ thats 27 miles; so we’ll be safe.

This here house has got a little room with a washing machine in it. Hit were there so’s we wudn’t have to take us a wash-pan; a wash rag; an’ bar of soap, an’ then, “go in th’ frunt room”. The fust day we lived here, I put three shirts and two pairs of drawers in that little white machine: Pulled the chain, and ‘I ain’t seen’em since’.

“Therlow?” I were gonna send you a coat for your birthday, but the feller at the Post Office said that it were too heavy to mail with all of them big buttons; so “I jus’ cut’em off and put’em in th’ pocket”.

The weather here has been cold and it only rained twice last week. Three days the fust time and four days the second. Susie Mae has been having a hissie-fit for the weather to warm up so’s she can take off her union suit. She says the flap in th’ back gets in her way.

We got a bill from the Funeral Home last week. They said that if we didn’t make the last payment on Uncle Jake’s bury’in; “UP HE COMES.” I may have told you that I have got a real important job up here. I got about 500 people under me. It’s not very hard work. I just have to cut the grass at the Cemetery once a week.

Archie Tadlock’s sister, Mavis; had a baby early this morning. I don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl, so I don’t know whether Archie is an uncle or an aunt. Bubba; Mavis’ husband, said that she would have had twins if his foot hadn’t-a-slipped.

Jethro Blevins were buried last week. He were riding in the back of Arlis Lee Rollins’ pickup when he ran off th’ bridge across Dead Fall Creek. Arlis Lee rolled down the window and swum out, but ‘pore-ole’ Jethro couldn’t get the tailgate down; so he drowned.

Cousin Billy Ray was buried yestiddy. He fell in a vat of whiskey at his still. The fire department tried to pull him out but he fought’em off for three days. They cremated him and he burned for 48 hours.

Let us know if you can get off’en yo’ job long enough to come down here and we’ll meet the bus if we haven’t moved by then. I meant to send you the money for your ticket, but I forgot to put it in before I sealed the envelope.

Folks around here are quare as th’ devil. Susie Mae and me went to a square dance ’bout a week ago and I axed Susie Mae iffen I cud dance with Miss Lillie; (that gal whot fixes her’n hair) to dance. Susie Mae said; “Go on an’ show yo’ butt;” so “I TOOK “VANTAGE UV HIT.” That thare gal were a good dancer, and I ‘cided to compliment her. I told her, “You know? you don’t sweat much for a fat gal,” and she upped and slapped my face. “Musta-been ’cause I wudn’t let her use my Sweat-Rag.”

Aunt Louise got a telephone call t’other day telling her that the entertainment than she had scheduled for the Church supper had been canceled. Atter she hung up, two Hobos come up to her door and axed her fer something to eat. Aunt Louise told them to split that pile of wood in th’ back yard and she’d feed boff-um.

Atter a while, she looked out the window and seed one of them men doing somersets, and back-flips, and yelling to beat the band. She said, “He’s a acrobat. I’ll axe him to perform at our Church, fer pay.” Calling to the other man, she said, “Would your friend do that at the Church tonight? We’ll pay him $40.00.”

The man replied, “I’ll ask him.” “HEY JOE, you want to cut off another toe for Forty dollars?”

“Ain’t nothing much happened ’round here. So; Be sure and write soon now, ya’hear?”

Yo frien’, “Jay Henry.”


The stone churn sat on the hearth, just to the right of the open fireplace. The purpose was to slowly sour the whole milk that would later be agitated by the up and down motion of the dasher. The dasher was nothing more than an X of wood mounted on the end of a dowel rod that extended through a hole in the removable top.

When the milk had soured, it thickened and formed a substance which was commonly called Clabber. Around this substance was a thin liquid which was referred to as whey. If the Clabber was removed from the whey and broken up, it resembled present-day cottage cheese and the taste was much the same. Many people enjoyed eating Clabber and it contained almost as much nourishment as the whole milk.
A famous nursery rhyme makes reference to Clabber. You remember Little Miss Muffet, don’t you? She sat on her tuffet and ate her curds and whey or “Clabber.”

If the Clabber was left intact, the churning process began by working the dowel rod up and down and continually stirring the curds and whey until lumps of yellow substance floated to the surface. These lumps were removed when the churning was complete by means of a wooden paddle, salted and packed into a mold and left to harden. This delicacy is butter, calories and all.

The by-product from the churning process was by no means the least of the treats that resulted from this rather unique operation. Prized as a companion to a snack or even a meal of cornbread was none other than BUTTERMILK. Chilled and served at tables in the finest homes, Buttermilk was considered a staple for many.

From start to finish, nothing was wasted in the making of butter or “churning.” It was an operation which required little enough energy in order to produce so much in the way of subsistence for the average family. Churning usually was done when the other more important tasks were completed.

Sitting by the fire and listening to the radio or reading with the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the thump-thump of the dasher as an all important procedure was initiated. The conversion of whole milk into first CLABBER, then BUTTER, and finally the mouth watering taste of a product synonymous with a “Pone of Cornbread;”…..“BUTTERMILK!”



In an era when lack of money impeded almost all diversion with a price tag; children displayed their marvelous ingenuity for creating amusement from any available source. One of my favorites was to issue a different book, a magazine, or even the newspaper, to every child present. The concept was to attempt intelligent conversation between all participants by reading aloud, “ONLY THE SPOKEN QUOTES FROM THEIR PARTICULAR PRINTED ITEM”.

In my home; hours were spent around a kerosene lamp while desperately trying to come up with a sentence to respond, and maintain some semblance of the same subject. Try it: It’s harder than you think.

Another form of homemade entertainment was using the Windshield Wipers on the family car as a “METRONOME”. Wipers in those days were powered by the vacuum of the engine. When the engine was given more fuel, the Wipers slowed, and while coasting, increased in speed.

Harmonizing in time with the flap-flap of the Wipers required deep concentration for other singers. The exception was for the person driving the vehicle. He/she controlled the accelerator, and whenever the speed changed; the others were hard pressed to keep the correct timing. Believe it or not; this diversion turned an otherwise boring trip into quite a challenge.

Play Roads were constructed in the sandy soil that was abundant in the South; and discarded Snuff Cans became Automobiles. Hours of amusement were spent maneuvering these “cars” along the miles of “highways.” Even driveways were forged from these thoroughfares to the doorway of a “Playhouse,” that amounted to no more than a series of rocks defining a floor plan, with bits of broken dishes, spools, match boxes and scraps of wood serving as furniture. These (Homes) were popular with the gentle sex.

Discarded Automobile tires were rolled for thousands of miles, by only touching them with two sticks. With practice, a tire could be rolled for hours without touching it with human hands. An inverted “T” made from a scrap of wood called a “strip,” guided a metal ring from an axle hub in much the same way. All of the above required absolutely no outlay of cash needed for survival.

Any money earned by youngsters from collecting and selling scrap metal, tin foil, deposits on soda bottles, etc. was carefully hoarded until the weekly trip to town. If one had been lucky, there would be enough to pay .09 cents for a ticket to watch Hoot Gibson battle the rustlers and save the widow’s farm at “The Show.”

Creativity among children originated out of necessity during the 1930’s and 40’s. Today’s video games, Shopping Malls, Television, allowances and Computers were all products that existed only in the minds of some science-fiction authors. Whenever one or more of these items were mentioned, the usual reaction was “They’ll never work.”

Since survival required every available person to perform some chores, there was hardly time for children to roam in search of “devilment.” Each school day began with the admonishment; “Y’all hurry home and change your school clothes. We’ve got to get that cotton picked before it rains.”

Even picking cotton offered the opportunity to invent entertainment. Gathering “May-Pops;” (the small fruit of the Passion flower). This grew wild, and offered material for future amusement, Of course, gathering the May-Pops took precedent over the drudgery of picking the fluffs of cotton from the stalks. The May-Pops were then taken to the horse trough, during any rest-break; sliced in half and the seeds discarded. A stick or toothpick was stuck in the center with a scrap of paper attached to the top and, Voila: A sailboat was launched.

I sometimes cringe when I think about the amount of money spent on modern-day Children’s entertainment. Most youngsters, today are brighter and have access to more technology than did their counterparts. Imagine what could happen if they were; ‘required’ to create their own brand of Homemade Entertainment.

Encouraged; but left to their own designs. They might just solve most to our worlds problems.

Perhaps we could throw in a little Cotton Picking, just to make things more interesting. Dj.


It has not seemed so long ago that the only catalogs available were from the firms of Sears & Roebuck and Montgomery Ward. Well, we’ve come a long way, baby. Since the introduction of the credit card; mail order shopping has become a way of life.

My understanding of regulations for postal carriers are that they are required to have no less than 35 pounds of assorted mail in their satchels. If this is true, someone from the USPS department should initiate an investigation of our mail person. It is entirely possible that they leave their assigned station with the aforementioned poundage, but immediately upon arrival at our mail receptacle, they deposit 33.7 pounds of catalogs, and continue with their routes with only a couple of postal cards and perhaps a past due notice from Publishers Clearing House.

Being an avid wood-craftier, I browsed through a catalog at a friend’s house once and found a unique Router Bit that struck my fancy. I sent an order for the merchandise to the Company and received it a few days later. The following week my mailbox was stuffed with brochures from AMERICAN WOODWORKER, WOODCRAFT, LTD., COUNTRY WOODWORKER, WORKING WITH WOOD, WOOD LOVERS MONTHLY, WEEKEND WOODWORKER, PLANS FOR WOODWORKERS, WOODWORKING TOOLS, HARD TO FIND TOOLS and WORKING WITH WOOD FOR FUN AND PROFIT.

Each packet contained no less than 23 cards offering a 50% discount off the newsstand price and each card contained the words, “Send no money. We’ll bill you.”

To add insult to injury the next week brought letters of past due bills from these same firms for subscriptions, many of which stated that if I did not send in my remittance I would be subject to forfeiture of the grand prize of “One Million Dollars.”

Along about the same time my wife purchased an item from a catalog which she found in the waiting room at the dentist’s office. Less than two weeks later she was the recipient of catalogs from; “J.C.Penny, Montgomery Ward, Romans, Unique Boutique, Crazy Tee Shirts, Sears, Just My Size, Victoria’s Secret, L.L.Bean, Lane Bryant and of course, Fredrick’s Of Hollywood.” Many of these offered substantial discounts to preferred customers such as she.

To someone like me who still has difficulty with making a “1-800 telephone call,” it is no less than amazing that so many firms consider the two of us as valuable clients. Many of them even went so far as to send credit cards for our convenience.

As an accommodation for our friends in the Postal Service, we are considering placing a ‘Recycling Bin’ underneath our Mailbox along with instructions to the carriers to deposit all catalogs in the bin and only the important mail in the official box. You know, things like our “Pension Checks, or our Tax Refunds.”

I suppose to say that we are tired of all this unsolicited inundation of “Fantastic merchandise at unbelievable prices” would be putting it a bit too mildly. Perhaps a better description of our attitude would be that…

In our old age, we have become just “Plain, Damned, MEAN!” “You know:” ‘“Fool me once: – Shame on you. Fool me twice: – Shame on ME!”


Right or Wrong???

Here of late, my mail receptacle is stuffed each day with letters from some organization seeking my help in the form of $25.00___, $50.00___, or Other___. Since I have never heard of most of them, I add them to the papers that are destined for the re-cycling bins at the dump.

Some are frightening and tell me that if they do not receive my contribution by Friday, the government will come and take away my insurance, my social security, and if it pleases them, my entire lifestyle.

Thinking back to the time before every election, I distinctly remember each and every politician telling me the very same thing. They all insisted that my only salvation was to cast my vote for them and they would protect me. “WELL, I did; and they didn’t.” Some of the people that these letters are warning me about are the very ones that I supported with my vote.

My question is; Just whom should I believe? The letters sound sincere and at the same time, the politicians sounded sincere, and I am in a quandary. Is there not someone that could lead me to make the right decisions? If so; should I believe them and send them my $25.___ $50.___ Other___?

As you can see, I am totally confused. I know full well that everyone cannot be right but my problem is distinguishing between them. I am aware of scams and unscrupulous people who prey on the uninformed; therefore, I am somewhat dubious of contributing to their coffers.

On the other hand, if one can believe the reports in the media on the corruption in government, can I really trust the ones that I helped elect to represent me? Are they dedicated in their responsibilities or were they just seeking a soft job at my expense?

I do not insinuate that every politician or every organization is not honest and above board. I am simply stating that someone, “HAS to be wrong and I just don’t know which ones they are.”

I would appreciate help because it is obvious that I am in need.


Then there are the goods and services that offer $1.00 per Month (for 12 months). When the year ends, we are harassed each month with; “A bill for $169.95! It’s perfectly legal; but is it ethical? Dj.


A Senator from Wyoming, – Co-Chair of our Countries deficit commission; called American senior citizens, the greediest generation; when he compared “Social Security” to a Milk Cow with 310 million teats. *Reported in August, 2010.
“Hey; Senator, let’s get a few things straight.”
1. As a career politician, you have been on the public dole for something like FIFTY YEARS.
Have you paid for this privilege?

2. I have paid Social Security taxes for some 60(?), YEARS; (since I was around 15 years old; I am now better than 85). (Note I said “PAID”). Social Security is NOT the free entitlement that you would have us think. We PAID for that right, unlike you Congressional (’employees’).

3. My Social Security payments, and those of millions of other Americans, “were’ safely tucked away in an interest bearing account for decades; until you political pukes decided to raid the account and “give our money to a bunch of zero ambition, losers; in return for VOTES;” thus attempting to bankrupt the system and tried turning Social Security into a scheme that would have made Bernie Maddoff proud.

4. Recently, just like Lucy & Charlie Brown; you and your “ilk” pulled the proverbial football away from millions of American seniors, nearing retirement, and moved the goalposts for full retirement from age 65 to age 67. NOW; you and your shill commission are proposing to move the goalposts, “YET AGAIN”.

5. I, and millions of other Americans, have been paying into Medicare from Day One. Now you morons propose to change the rules of the game. “Why?” Because you idiots mismanaged other parts of the economy to such an extent that you need to; “steal money from Medicare to pay the bills.

6. Additionally; I, and millions of other Americans, have been paying Income Taxes our entire working lives, and now you propose to increase our taxes yet again. “Why?” Because you incompetent politicians spent our money so profligately; and you just kept on spending even after you ran out of money. Now, you come to the American Taxpayers and say; “You need more money to pay off the debts that “YOU” have created. To add insult to injury, you label us “GREEDY” for calling out your incompetence. Well, Sir, “I have a few questions for YOU”.

1. How much money have you ‘earned???’ from the American taxpayers, during your pathetic 50-year political career?

2. At what age did you retire from your pathetic political career, and how much are you ‘receiving’ in annual retirement benefits from the American taxpayer’s funds?

3. How much did you pay for YOUR government provided Health Insurance?

4. What cuts in YOUR retirement and healthcare benefits are you proposing in your disgusting deficit reduction proposal, or, (as usual), have you exempted yourself and your political Cronies?

It is you, Sir, and your political co-conspirators called “The Congress,” who are the “greedy” ones. It is you and your fellow nutcases who have bankrupted America and stolen the American dream from millions of loyal, patriotic taxpayers.

And, for what; VOTES! That’s right, sir. You and yours have bankrupted America for the sole purpose of advancing your pathetic political careers. “You know it: We know it: and You know that we know it.

“And, My Friend; You can take that to the bank.”

Signed: A disgruntled taxpayer.

Don’t Push It; Buster !

Entering the small waiting room of the doctor’s office, the man registered his attendance with the receptionist and took a seat. He had browsed through copies of LOOK, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST, and LIBERTY for about an hour when his name was called and he was ushered to the examination room by a nurse.

She handed him an extremely short gown, told him to undress and put the gown on and left the room. The gown was designed to be worn backwards and had only three string ties in back instead of buttons. Somehow he struggled into this garment, trying in vain to close the back when the nurse came back and asked him to describe his symptoms.

“I feel tired most of the time lately, and I am unable to sleep,” the man replied. “Also, I have headaches and my back hurts constantly.” After writing this down on a chart, the nurse said, “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

When the doctor came in he began his examination. Taking temperature, listening to heartbeat, feeling, probing and generally invading the privacy of the man’s body took the better part of an hour before the doctor said, “I cannot find anything physically wrong with you. Suppose you tell me something about your lifestyle. How is your sex life?”

To this the man answered, “Not too bad. Probably one or two times a month.”

“Ahh.” the doctor said, “I think we’ve discovered your problem. Your body is reacting negatively to the lack of regular sex. My suggestion would be to increase this activity to at least three to four times per week.”

Apparently shocked; the man replied, “Let’s not get carried away here Doc. I believe that I am doing pretty good for a ‘Priest’ in a town this small.”


Corrie Lee, speaking…

Corrie Lee had never been accused of possessing above-average intelligence. She laid claim to being nothing more than a good-old country girl and grew up in an era when the family sanitary facilities consisted of a “PATH.”

She was kept at home for most of her sixteen years due to the fact that she was considered just “one of the boys” and her services as cheap labor around the farm was in great demand. Her folks did not set much store in schooling. Their thinking was that an education would not help much in picking cotton or cutting and baling hay. It was therefore that Corrie Lee never became accustomed to the ways of the outside world and/or the trappings thereof.

Coincidentally, she was introduced to the accommodations of those who she knew only as “Town Folks” quite by accident.
The occasion was the return of her brother Thurlow from his stint in the Army. She had sought and gained permission to meet him at the bus station. Clad in her usual garb of overalls and denim shirt, she walked the six miles into town and was seated on the wooden bench just outside the terminal when nature called.

She hurried inside and inquired of the ticket agent as to the whereabouts of the Privy. The agent merely nodded to a corner of the room and two doors. Corrie Lee walked over and discovered a sign on each door; a silhouette clothed in a dress on one, and long pants on the other. With reasoning that depicted her farm training, she rationalized that because she was wearing her overalls, she was expected to enter the door with the long pants.

She was somewhat startled when she spied several white, odd shaped fixtures attached to the walls. She went out and asked the agent what they were. Without looking up, the agent replied, “They are urinals for folks to pee in.”

Corrie Lee again entered the rest room and studied the fixtures for a few moments before returning to the agent’s cage. She was normally a quiet, personable, individual but in her mind, the urinals were the straw that broke the camels back.

When the agent asked if he could again help her, she became highly indigent and in a loud voice stated; “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU CITIFIED FOLKS DO WHEN YOU HAVE TO PEE, BUT I’LL TELL YOU ONE THING RIGHT NOW.” “I AIN’T A’GONNA STAND FER THAT!”
“To get a description, plainer than that; One would have to draw a picture. Dj.