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Showing posts from September, 2017

The Skunk Whisperer

We have been getting our eggs up here from Suzie, who works in the office next door.  They are enormous, delicious eggs with rich, creamy whites and deep yellow yolks.  At CDN $4/dozen, a super deal!  I was running low on eggs and went over to put in an order for another dozen. Suzie was annoyed. "Something is up with my hens, and I don't know what!  They have stopped laying eggs in the hen house, and seem skittish.  It looks like they are hiding their eggs." "Does this happen often?" I asked. "Once in a while, and usually only with one hen," she replied, "but never all of them at once.  I'm going to see if I can coax our old dog into sniffing out the nests, and then we'll see what's doing." Regretfully, I went to the supermarket and bought a dozen organic eggs.  They were CDN$5.00 a dozen, and not nearly as good. The following week, Suzie had figured it out.  Or rather, her dog did. "My old dog found the new nests...

There's a Place in France...

About That Place In France... When I was about 8, my older brother taught me a song about France, Pants, and Dancing.  You may have heard it.  The song is widely parodied, to the extent that the parodies may be better known than the original song.  Here is a typical link to the song on You Tube; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eL3VAORMYOE The words go like this; There’s a place in France Where the Alligators dance. One couldn’t dance So they kicked him in the pants, And the pants he wore Cost a dollar ninety-four, And the tag on the pants Said his pants were made in France. It is high time someone did a literary exposition on this mysterious song-- The scenes called to mind by the song start at the macro level (a picture of France), then focus down to a particular place in France with dancing alligators.  The focus continues further to a particular alligator who—alas!--cannot dance.  The next level of detail examines the pants of the alli...