Category Archives: funny bone

We know

2015-10-07 16.33.56 In fact an approaching car spotting you at the stop sign will floor it to keep you waiting. You and all the other cars backed up to Anthony’s Bakery. Why the police can’t get out of the patrol car during these regular backups to direct traffic is beyond me.

There was a discussion many years ago regarding the Bandstand, maybe consider a move.

Why not shrink it?

P.C. Tommy Stephenson Durham Market Controlbox[5]

Mike

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melting snow

I just moved a ton of snow off my roof and now it is on the ground to be moved again. I finally have broken down and pulled the trigger on a generator for my sump pump.  I simply cannot afford to be facing Spring on a wing and a prayer. This  melt easily could  be accompanied by a power outage at some point.

Honda EU2000i Generator

I went with the Honda EU2000i  and got a great deal on the web.

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Mike

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awaiting our weekend visitors

Linda’s niece and her husband have a wedding to attend, so we are going to entertain their children for a few days. A 6 month , a two year old  and the boy’s 9 year old sister.

I have been up in the barn attic bringing down some fun.

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And another important item.

2014-10-11 10.59.32 SUNDAY UPDATE: This is our first time since our own children were small to care for little ones.

It all came flooding back,and we are finding it to be easy and a real joy! Oh sure, 2 bottles in the middle of the night(we never had a microwave for that as young parents) it’s now but a moment in time to prepare and to hear that cooing and talking bedside from the playpen in the dark….. then back to sweet dreams, simply fantastic.

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Mike

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An excerpt from “County Fair”

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Jean Sheperd (July 26, 1921 – October 16, 1999)

I so enjoyed listening to his radio broadcasts, and reading his stories. This is an  excerpt from  “County Fair” which appeared in the September 1969 Playboy magazine. You might actually had bought the magazine for the stories.

 

“Ahead, the other occupants of the Buick had gathered around the car and were fanning the hood with somebody’s white shirt. The steam rose higher into the heavens. The car behind us began honking; then others joined in. This only bugged the old man even more. Out the window went his head. “SHUT UP, YOU JERKS” he yelled at the line of cars. They honked even louder.”

“The Buick was not the only car giving off steam. Several others had begun to percolate in the heat around us. The crowd ahead had begun to push the Buick off the road, like some great wounded whale. There is nothing deader than a dead Buick. Finally, we were able to squeeze past the stragglers and once again move on toward the fairgrounds. A biplane towing a red-and-white streamer droned over the line of traffic: FISH DINNER ALL YOU CAN EAT $1.69 JOE’S DINER RTE 6. We were so close now that the sounds of the fair began to drift in over the roar of motors: calliopes bleating, whistles, merry-go-round music, bells ringing, barkers.

Two cops in short-sleeved blue shirts waved the cars in through the main gate and past a cornfield to the jam-packed, rutted parking lot just inside the grounds. Flushed and sweaty, these two men faced the pressing horde of hissing, steaming, dusty rattletraps with the look of men who are struggling with a totally uncontrollable force that threatens to engulf them at any moment. One blew his whistle in short, sharp blasts that matched every breath he took. With his left hand, he seemed to gather the cars in a steady hooking motion that pushed them on past his right hand, which moved like a piston in the air, shoving the heaps through the narrow gate. The other cop, taller and sadder, stood astride the center line of the asphalt road and glared slowly and deliberately at each car as it rolled past him.”

“The old man, by now totally hot under the collar, muttered barely audible obscenities as we drew abreast of the first cop. “What was that, buddy?” The cop’s voice was level and menacing, cutting through the racket of the Pontiac’s piston slap like an ice cube going down your back on a hot day. Instantly, an electric feeling of imminent danger whipped through the car. Even my brother stopped whining. “Uh .. . pardon me, officer?” The old man had turned on his innocent voice, which always sounded a little like he was slightly hard of hearing. He stuck his head out the window with exaggerated politeness. “Did I hear you call me a son of a bitch, buddy?” The tall cop was approaching the side of the car, his eyes piercing the old man like a pair of hot ice picks. “Uh . .. what was that, officer? Sir?” “You heard me.” A ham-like hand rested authoritatively on the door handle; a heavy foot clunked solidly on the running board. The line came to a halt behind us. ”I’m sorry, officer. What was it you said, sir?” “Did you call me a son of a bitch?” “Oh, heavens no! Mercy me! Why, good gracious, you must have heard me sneeze. I am troubled with hay fever.” The old man sounded amazingly like an Episcopalian minister. He sneezed loudly into his sleeve as a demonstration.”

“I had seen the old man get out of many a tight squeak before, but this performance topped them all. I drank it in, knowing that I was seeing a master at work. My mother said nothing through it all, just looked nervously pathetic, which seemed to help the old man’s act. “OK, buster. Just watch yer lip, y’hear?” “Why, bless my buttons, officer, I certainly will. Yes, indeed! That is fine advice. Heavens to Betsy, I certainly will.” With a flick of his wrist, the cop waved us on. The emergency was over. The old man let the clutch out so suddenly that the car jerked heavily twice before lurching forward. An elderly, toilworn Chevy pickup truck carrying a farmer, his wife, seven kids and a Bluetick hound had stalled just ahead of us. The old man, out of pure reflex, muttered: “Son of a bitch!” Realizing he wasn’t yet out of earshot, he covered it with a loud, juicy sneeze.”

I still laugh  despite being  able to practically recite this passage.

Mike

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dipping toe

“In New Hampshire’s southeast corner, Exeter is dominated by the venerable Phillips Exeter Academy, a private prep school, and leans slightly more Democratic in its voter registration. As of last month, 3,253 were registered Democrats, 2,763 Republicans, and 3,461 were independents or undeclared.”

The above quote from this USA Today article   1/10/12

“Dominated” I love this characterization!

In Exeter  we have about 2200? that turn out to  vote in the local “stuff” .

I sent off the next article with a note to a local Selectman over the weekend, and got a reply today. These are just little things I see and you might have missed. I find them interesting.

“To ensure that he keeps the numbers he needs, Staffier calls the warrant articles out of order in a sort of Bingo approach, picking numbers out of a hat so that residents interested in a particular item have no choice but to stay for the evening.”

The above quote from this Boston Globe article 5/20/12

Mike

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local connection


Seacoast Media Group is owned by Murdoch as they are part of the Dow Jones Media Group.

Phone hacking  by journalists

Mike

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